Wounded Warsong
by Alan Spencer
Summary: The Chosen Undead has killed Gwyn, becoming the Dark Lord of a slowly dying world. A portal appears and he hears a young girl calling for him. But he has not bowed to anybody, not even death, and he is not going to start now.
1. Bind

**Wounded Warsong**

**I: Bind**

The Chosen Undead turned away for the rotting corpse of Gwyn, Lord Of Cinder, and walked towards the door. On his way, he never looked at the flame over his shoulder. Not even once. He had thought about it during those hellish weeks, at length, when ethereal monsters and nothing but beasts had both fell to his blade. The weeks were he had brought down a kingdom already sinking to his knees. He didn´t know much; didn´t even know is own name. But if he knew something, it was one thing-gifts may look fine, at first, but when you bite into it there is nothing but poison. This path he had walked... it had be sent for it. And he was tired, too tired. So what if he was just letting the world die? Is not like anybody cared. He reached the gates, and walked through them.

The serpents were there. Lined up in each side, there were dozens and dozens of them. He didn´t tense. It hardly mattered anymore. There was no reason to pick up his sword, ever again. The Chosen Undead had died. Where he had be before, there was nothing but a empty husk pretending to be alive, rushing towards his destruction.

"My lord, bless thy safe return." They said, as one and bowed their heads one by one, clearing the way."Let Kaathe, and Frampt, serve your Highness. We are here to serve your Highness."

He took a step forward; the serpents didn´t move, so he walked down the stairs and in between the creatures.

"Let true dark be cast around the world." Ah, he knew about that, too. Is very essence was darkness, and it only had grow and grow through is misguided adventure. Perhaps, he had be truly born for this. To take power. "Our lord hath returned´st..."

He crossed the bridge, and stopped. He felt something. Didn´t know what, but something. Space seemed to fold on itself, and in the next moment a floating circle full with the colors of the rainbow was right in front of him. What was this? Hadn´t he not really killed Gwyn, and this was some kind of trick of him?

_My servant that exists somewhere in this universe! _

It was a young, female voice. A untainted voice, alien to his ears. All the people he had know spoke with a heaviness that almost seemed to drag them down-even Solaire, that cheerfulKnight of Sunlight, had be like that in his final moments. But this voice was light. Happy. Would such a voice really exist, or it was nothing more that is disillusion?

"My lord? Is something wrong?" The serpents called, as one. They didn´t heard her. It seemed ridiculous, but it was the only explanation.

_My divine, beautiful, and powerful familiar! _

Familiar? He knew that word, in all his senses. And the great grey wolf, Sif, had carved the meaning of that word into his flesh. Loyalty, strength, perseverance. That voice was calling for somebody like that. He was not beautiful, nor divine but he was powerful, stronger that anybody else, and certainly perseverant. Nobody else could have throw himself into the jaws of death, time after time, just for the words of a dying knight. He could be what that girl was asking for. The only question was, who was she? Where was she? Past that circle, of course. Where else?

_I wish and assert from the bottom of my heart, answer my guidance!_

Maybe... this was another test. A last ditch attempt to make him rekindle the flame, and die. But he doubted it. There was no reason to do so, but his heart was beating fast in his chest and the weight of his conviction was as real as the weight of the sword at his back. Sometimes, one didn´t not need more than that. What marked the difference between living or dying, losing your souls and further on go hollow, was just that. Instinct. Drive. And... he didn´t want to die. Even now, he didn´t want to die.

So what had once be man, and later on called himself the Chosen Undead, and now was nothing more that the Dark Lord that had cast this faded world to ruin, stepped through the portal with his eyes closed. He felt clean air, blowing his hair back and tugging at his clothes. Not clean compared to the depths of Bligthtown, but _clean_. Here, there was no stain. He opened his eyes.

He saw a open courtyard, very small, and the grass at his feet. There was a group of people in row, near a castle with creatures at their side or perched on their shoulders. A girl was rigth in front of him, holding some kind of stick and with a ridiculously short skirt. She was the one who called him here; he could fell it. At her side, there was a bald man.

"Who are you?" The girl said.

"I had a name, once. Now, I don´t. I have not had one in a long time."

"What? How could you..." She put a hand to her temple, and groaned. "Anyway, what are you, then? Some kind of knight?"

"No. I am... I am what our people call Undead." He could heard the crowd whispering, but couldn´t make out the words. Still, his heart started beating faster. Could it be possible that they didn´t know? That they were Humanity, and yet, darkness had not touched this place? It seemed like a dream.

"What... what does that mean, exactly?"

"It means I can´t die." The whispers grew louder, and he cached several of them doubting his claims. That confirmed it; these people were not touched by the curse of the undead. "No matter what, I can´t die."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"No. There is no point in that." He said. The girl stared at him in silence, for a few seconds, then took a steep forward and nodded.

"Anyway... would you take off your helmet?" It was a suspicious request, but still, he wanted to believe that this place was what it seemed. So he took off his helmet, and let it fall to the ground. The girl walked closer to him, and put her hands on his cheeks. He tensed.

"What are..." He was cut off. The girl had smacked his lips against his. What was this? Some kind of Miracle, or even a Pyromancy? No, that was ridiculous. Nobody could waste souls for a attack you could only use at such a close rage. Yet, maybe it was not needed. Maybe she just wanted to be sure that..

He froze. He could felt her, her very essence, tugging at his souls. Draining them. So this was it. He had be dropped for one battlefield to the next; the feeling of confidence depth in his heart had be nothing but a lie. If this went on any further...

He drew his sword, and stabbed the girl in the guts. She opened her mouth, as if to scream, but she only spat out blood. He retired the sword, and let her fall back to the ground. Gasps, screams. The bald man raised his staff, and spat out some kind of incantation. A blast of fire went after him, and he rolled out of the way. A Pyromancer, here. Heh. He raised his left hand, the one wrapped in the Pyromancy Glove and threw a Fireball right at the man. That man spat out another incantation, and a Fireball intercepted his own. They exploded, kicking up dust. He turned around, and a burning pain in his rigth hand made him lose his balance, and fall to his knees. It hurt, it hurt, but pain was nothing new and he could figure out what the hell was happening to him when he was safe. He dragged himself to his feet, and broke into a run, not even looking back at his fallen helmet.

The gates of this place were closed. He went close to a watch tower, and climbed the ladder. At the top, he looked down. Trees lined up in each side, and a messy road. The fall would sting, but it couldn´t kill him. So he jumped down, and fell a spell whirl past his head. He hit the ground, on a crouch, his whole body trembling for the force of the impact. He took a step forward, nearly fell and ran towards the trees.

* * *

><p>His spell went flying, but as that strange knight jumped down he didn´t see it hit him or heard him scream in pain. Colbert clenched his staff so hard is knuckles turned white, and thought about following. He couldn´t go far, and he would have enough time to catch him. He had hurt one of his students, but... he could be dealt with, later. The palace could eventually catch him, and he had no where to run. His fate was sealed. But Miss Valliere needed help. He approached her, and knelled at her her side. She was breathing heavily, eyes bright with tears, her hands resting were that man had stabbed her and they were stained by blood. She was so young, yet... Dammit. Goddamit. He put his hands on her cheeks, and turned her head towards him.<p>

"Don´t worry, Miss Valliere. Everything is going to be all right; the water mages are coming."

"You... you are such a bad liar."

"Its the truth. You can´t give up now, Miss Valliere. Please."

"I am dead." She said, drowsily. He could have preferred if she didn´t say anything at all. It was just...

(_Please, please, there is no plague!_)

too much. "As good as dead, at least. No like anybody will care, anyway."

"Don´t say that, please! Don´t say that! What about your family?"

"Catteleya... yeah, she will... but the rest of them... they will be happy that they finally got rid of such a burden. And... I am happy, too." She said, and closed her eyes. For a moment, he feared the worst but he soon realized that she was still breathing. Cold comfort, maybe, but better that no comfort at all.

Footsteps. Colbert looked up, and saw a group of water mages approaching them. Slow. So slow. A life was at stake here, for fuck´s sake! They shouldn´t be this slow. They approached them, and one of them levitated Louise with a spell. She did´t even seem to notice it. One of the mages looked at him over his shoulder at him, grimaced and carried on. He stood up slowly and walked away, gripping his staff tightly, towards the Headmaster´s office.

* * *

><p>He ran through the forest for a good while, not knowing where he was ending or how much it could take, just wanting to lose possibly pursuers. He was Undead, and he had brought down creatures which were as gods, but even for him strength in numbers was a legitimate worry. He had rested last of the bonfire residing before the Kiln Of The First Flame, and he didn´t want to find out what could happen to him if he died now. Maybe he was being stupid, and he could just go back to that courtyard, but that was not any better. So there was no reason to stop, and fight back. He came near a large tree, and decided to take a breather. He put his back against it, sat on the ground and took off the armor from his rigth hand.<p>

"This..." It was some kind of symbol, carved into his flesh-much like the Darksign. He couldn´t understand it; he couldn´t even begin to guess his meaning. Strange. That girl had spoken in the same tongue as him, so he had not expected not being able to understand it. Maybe runes were different in this part of the world; it was not implausible. Whatever the meaning was, he could felt magical energy coming for it and that was worrying him. Not only the girl who did this to him was still alive, somehow, but this was most certainty dangerous. Maybe some other way to drain his souls, or mind control. "Fuck."

He sighed. Worrying was useless, because there was nothing he could do. His only hope was that couldn´t kept her alive, so that this rune could face. He stood up, and started running again.

Colbert breathed in, and opened the door to the Headmaster´s office. Osmond was sitting there, alone, his staff on the table and reading something. He heard him come, and looked at him. Colbert closed the door, and approached him.

"What is it, Jean? Is about what happened at the field?"

"Yes, Headmaster." He said, looking at him "There are a few things you should know about."

"Such as?"

"The... The man that stabbed Miss Valliere, said some strange things. That he didn´t have a name, didn´t have in for a long time. And he called himself a Undead, and told her that he couldn´t die."

"Why are you telling me this, Colbert? Surely, It doesn´t mean anything. He is probably just one of the more unlucky commoners, driven insane by the treatment he got. What he says just can´t be possible. Even our Founder Brimir died; nothing is eternal."

"I know. Or at least, I am supposed to know. But... But is not easy. I..." He closed his eyes, for a moment, then opened them again. "I fought him, Headmaster. And I was aiming to kill him, despite my oath. Even so, he beat me. He easily dodged out of the way of my spell, and escaped."

Osmonds eyes widened.

"That´s..."

"And not only that. I couldn´t fell any magic coming from him at all, but he used magic against me. Fire magic like nothing I have seen before. Like nobody has seen before."

"Was he a elf?"

"No. He took off his helmet, and he didn´t have pointy ears. I... It sounds ridiculous, but I believe what he said."

"Jean..." He sighed. "I know it sounds like a perfect excuse, but don´t do this."

"Just what do you mean by that?" Colbert said, and gripped his staff tighter.

"He stabbed Miss Valliere, right under your watch, and I know it hurt. I know what you promised to your self, all those years ago. But there is no truth about what he said. You simply grew careless, for living in peaceful times and he got the better of you. Nothing more."

"That..." Colbert mumbled, and looked down. "Maybe is the truth... but... I want to join the search party."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you want to kill him, Jean, and we can´t afford that."

"That´s..." Colbert muttered, his eyes widening. "You can´t be serious. He stabbed Miss Valliere, right in front of everybody! She could die!"

"So what of it? It was his right." Osmond said, calmly. If he didn´t knew it just would make things worse, he could have punched him right there. Listen. He had to listen. Despite how he acted, the headmaster was trustworthy. Surely, he had a good reason. Surely... "In summoning him, Miss Valliere effectively kidnapped a foreign noble. That´s the kind of shit that can lead to a war, and Tristania really can´t afford that, so we will find him and offer our apologies. Karin would understand that."

"That´s what I am worrying about, Osmond."

"Enough. I don´t have time for this. Neither does Miss Valliere. If you want to stop being blinded by your hunger of revenge and do something actually good, then go see her at the infirmary."

"I... I don´t... that´s what it is, right?" He said. Osmond didn´t answer; a rhetoric question didn´t need an answer. "I have not changed at all."

"That´s wrong. You did what you did before, for duty. Now, you want to do this for love. Because you care about all of your students. The man standing before is not a simply pawn of the government, but a teacher. And proud of it."

They stayed in silence for a while, while Corbert searched for an appropriate answer. He couldn´t find it; he was not even sure there was an appropriate answer for such a thing. Then:

"Thank you, Headmaster." He said, turned back and went out of the office.

* * *

><p>He stopped, and looked down towards the village. He could see people walking, heard a bustle that was wholly unfamiliar for him and in the edge of the village, a port. He was probably far to recognizable in his armor, but if he could steal another persons clothes and the money then he could use it to get away from this kingdom. There was the possibility that the knights of this place had not be fully informed yet, but he didn´t bring down the old lords by taking chances. He breathed in, somewhat nervous about everything.<p>

"Hey, Captain." He heard somebody say, and froze. There was a chance they were not looking for him, but was low. Unbelievable low. Those people were faster that he thought. Damn. He crouched, put his back against a tree and keep on listening. It took it a few moments, but he noticed that they were at least eight sets of footsteps. And, now that he was focusing, he could fell continuous magical energy coming from the direction of the voices. Some kind of tracking magic. "Are you sure this is the right way?"

"Stop pestering me, Leonard. I need to concentrate. And, in any case, have you got any better ideas?"

"No."

"Then, shut up." He said, with a heavy finality and there was silence, again.

There was little chance they were not looking for him, so he didn´t waste any time. He leaped out of the buses, to confront them. While they looked stunned at him, he drew his sword. Something had change. He felt light, so light that it was like he didn´t have any armor at all. Rather that think about it, he charged at the soldiers. They went for their weapons, but they were so slow it was pathetic. He stabbed one in the throat, making him drop some kind of stick. Maybe a channel of magical energy, much like his Pyromancy Glove. For the corner of his eye, he noticed that one of the soldiers, the one with the helmet of his armor on his hand, had the stick pointing right at him. He slashed at it, breaking it in two and kicked him the chest, driving in back to the ground. Before he could do anything else, he stabbed him through the heart. He turned around, and slashed one that had gone to attack him in the stomach. The soldier fell back, holding his gut with hands that were soon, stained by blood, and fell down, dead. He stepped out of the rage of a spell fired at him, and it disappearedharmlessly behind him, in the forest. He broke the wand of the soldier close to him, and grabbed his head with right hand. The soldier´s face burned, and a moment later he was nothing but a empty husk with charred flesh. The others one looked on in horror, but carried on in trying to make some distance between them. Uh, mages. Always like that.

Then again, against him, everybody was like that.

He stabbed one of them in the stomach, grabbed a knife from his belt and threw it rigth between the eyes of the next soldier without missing a beat. One of the remaining two turned and ran for it. With a flourish of his hand, he sent a Fireball after the retreating soldier. He didn´t even see it coming. It hit him, and he went down in flames. His scream resounded through the otherwise silent forest, clear as a bell, and then he died. He approached the sole survivor, and felt to the ground, on his knees.

"Please, please, I don´t want to die!"

"Who sent you?" He said, like he had not heard him.

"Count Mott! Count Mott sent us!"

"Who is he and where is he?"

"He is the palace messanger, and the lord of a village called Tarbes, not too far from here. He is there, on his mansion. I-I can draw you a map, if you want."

"No, this is fine." He said, and it was true. He had see another village before coming here, much bigger that the one in front of him, with a mansion on a hill towering over the other buildings. That must be Tarbes. He brought down his sword, beheading him. His head fell on the ground, a expression of dull surprise plastered on his face, and rolled, spreading a trail of blood through the ground. He started thinking about what do next, and felt a stinging pain in his arm. He took off the armor from his arm, again and looked. The runes had disappeared. Ah, so that girl was dead. Good. One less problem. But now, he needed to focus on more important things.

Mott. It was a strange, foreign name, but he didn´t need to know about him to know know he was a nuisance. They didn´t believe what he said on that courtyard, or else, they hadn´t not be informed. Whatever the case, a show of power could make them back down. So, he stripped off his armor, piece by piece, and put on the armor of the captain, even the helmet. He checked the pockets of the corpse, and found several round pieces of gold that he assumed was the currency of this place. He put them on his own pockets, and marched towards Tarbes.

* * *

><p>They were giving him a wide berth, all of them and continued to look at him with expressions of politeness that hid nothing but fear and disgust. It reminded him of Lordran, in a way. He had talked to many other wanderers, like him, but most of them held a certain contempt for him, barely hidden. Even other Undead. These people were being oppressed. Well, maybe killing that Count was a better move that he expected. He ascended the hill up to the mansion, and knocked at the gates. The guards at the door of the mansion approached him, armed.<p>

"I need to speak with Count Mott." He said.

"Count Mott is busy; do you even have a appointment?"

"This is important, and, also, far above your pay grade. I can only speak of this with the Count."

"You have..."

"Oh, fine! The man that we were sent to find killed us all and I escaped for pure luck. And the Count needs to know about this. Now, will you let me pass?" He said, kinda nervously. The soldiers shared a glance, then one stepped forward and drew a set of keys for his pockets. He looked like he had forgot which one was for a moment, then put one of them in the hole and turned it. He heard a click, and the gate swung open. He stepped through, walked to the mansion and entered. The doors opened without resistance. There was nothing but a few lavish decorations; the paintings were all of the same rather short man, with a mustache and some clothes that looked ridiculous, like he was some kind of clown. That must be Mott. "I seek audience with the Count!"

Silence. The mansion sounded, and looked empty. Even the lights were not enough to make him shake that idea off, that he came here for nothing. But then, so softly he could have imagined it, he heard footsteps. Coming down, they were coming down. He looked towards the stairs, and saw the man of the portrait making his way towards him. Count Mott stopped in the middle, and looked at him. A second of deliberation later, he kneels, like some sort of knight.

"What is it? I am busy."

"My lord, the man we were sent to find killed them all." He couldn´t see Mott´s expression, but it sure was not anything pleasant. "I-I only escaped because he let me."

"Explain."

"He was a monster. He ambushed us, killed the captain before we could react and burned everybody else with fire magic." He heard footsteps, again. Mott coming down towards him, or somebody else? It didn´t matter. The count was as good as dead already. "He wanted me to give you a message, my lord."

"What message?"

"This." He said, and lifted his head. Mott was there, looking down at him contemptuously. He drew his sword, and stabbed the count through the chest. He gasped, spat out blood and tried to wriggle away from him. "Did you think I let you get away for that?"

"You...!" Mott said, spitting more blood on his stolen armor. "You...!

"Yes, me. I am Undead." He said, simply, and driven the sword furtherthrough its flesh. Mott doubled over, gasping for breath. Then, he took back his sword. Mott fell backwards, and landed with a thud that sounded like a dead weight. It was not like that, but it be, soon enough. He passed over Mott, without really looking at him. "For what you did, nothing about you will remain. You will simply be a name, Mott."

He stopped, suddenly. He could felt a build on of magical energy and some kind of chant, barely audible. He whipped towards Mott, saw him with his wand pointed at him and hit it with his sword, making the wand fly to the other side of the room, where the count couldn´t reach. He didn´t say anything more, while the other looked at him, bleeding out in the floor, expression filled with disbelief, anger and terror. Just turned away again, and walked up the stairs, leaving him to his fate. Knights, garbed in armor like his own, rushed out through the doors on each side. They didn´t even notice; just looked down, and saw Mott, dying.

"Kill... him." He thought he heard. "Him. Kill... him."

The knights, as one, looked back at him and he raised his sword in challenge. They were many, but not enough. Not enough, at all. He rushed towards the knights of the right. For a moment, they didn´t react, taken a back. Then, they charged to meet him. He heard the knights of the left side run move towards them. He dodged some of the swords, and some hit it his armor, but caused him no damage. When he reached the middle of the circle, he raised his hand towards the skies, and unleashed a firestorm. The flames covered them all, burning the knights alive inside their armor, their screams ringing in his ears. They fell down in a heap, now nothing more that charred flesh inside a suit of armor. He looked back towards the survivors, over his shoulder. They looked at him for a moment, just a moment, then they turned back and ran for their lives. He looked away, and tried the door just in front of him. It opened. In was a dining room, and there were maids inside. All of them looked at him, with horror and trembled so hard it was a wonder that they didn´t drop the plates and other things they had on theirs hands.

"Run." He said. "Count Mott is dead, and you are free. So run. And take everybody else with you. I am going to burn this place down. Also, if anyone asks, tell them the Chosen Undead did this. Got it?"

They shared uneasy glaces between each other, and, for a moment, he thought that they couldn´t move, that they didn´t have the courage to step out of their cage and into a savage world, like he had done so far in the past. But their motionless lasted only a moment; they nodded, and ran for the door, some of them stopping in the way to thank him. It fell... different. But not bad, not bad at all. He kept going up, up, up, passing other maids and knights who ran for it. He snapped off a table leg from the desk of the kitchen, and set the tip of fire with a wave on his hand. He swung it around, setting curtains and other things on fire and, when satisfied, dropped in the middle of the room. He snapped off another table let, light its tip of fire and carried on. He reached the top of the mansion, and dropped the stick down the hole of the chimney. It was more that enough. Fire spreads, help couldn´t come in a while and he doubted the villagers had much of a interest in putting down the flames. So he jumped from the roof to the nearest window, and then from window to window, until he reached the group. He was unused to jumping around so much, but he was not bad at it either. He looked back and watched the flames spreading through Count Mott´s mansion, thinking about spending more of his pyromancies to make it burn faster. Then, he saw the people rushing through the door, thought better on it and walked away.

**Author Notes**

**Sorry. I have got not excuse for this. But, at least, now that this is done I can concéntrate on finishing Blood On The Streets, so don´t expect this to be updated, not even semi-regulary, until then. **

**EDIT: Got the grammar fixed. Sorry for taking so long. **


	2. Right Of Frost

**II: Right Of Frost**

Knocking. He heard knocking-knocking as loud as an explosion. Colbert grumbled, and slowly open his eyes. He stared at the ceiling of his laboratory for a while, while whoever that person was persisted. Ah, it was just too much. How many bottels did he drink yesterday? A dozen? Must be.

"Mister Colbert." Someone said, punctuated by another round of knocking. Longeville. Or at least, it sounded like Longeville. He had thought that she was beautiful, just the kind of person he like and had even planned to invite her to the ball. Now, it was getting harder and harder to remember why he should care for such things. Louise was death, and it was all his fault. "Mister Colbert, please. You can´t stay like this forever. I know that..."

"You don´t know a thing!" He screamed, and then grimaced. God, now his head hurt even more. "You don´t know a damn thing. I... I could have save her, done something, but I..."

"Even so, is not your fault, Mister Colbert. That man killed her, not you. And if you want to blame another, then at least blame the healers, who couldn´t save her, not yourself."

Colbert signed, and sat up on the bed. His head spun, so hard he had to grab the bed to not fall down. He felt his stomach twist, and for a moment he thought he would puke right now, but nothing happened after a moment.

"I am coming." He said, got out of bed and walked towards the door, in nearly complete darkness, trying his best to not hit anything. He did it anyway, a few times, but at least he didn´t fall himself. He reached the door, turned all the locks and opened the door. Longeville beamed at him.

"Good, I was beginning to think you wouldn´t show up, Mister Colbert." She said, some warmness on her voice. In any other day, he would have bend over backwards to hear her speak like that, but today he just was not in the mood for pleasantries.

"Yeah, yeah. Just go, and tell the Headmaster that it will be best if I don´t teach today. I got drunk, last night."

"Uh? Ah, no. The Headmaster didn´t order me to come, Mister Colbert." Longeville said, and, despite himself, his heart started beating a little faster. "In fact, he wanted to give you some space. I just thought that... that this couldn´t be good for you, so... Come out, please?"

Colbert signed, and closed his eyes.

"Mister Colbert?"

"You know, hearing that makes me happy." He said, and opened his eyes again. "But if you really knew me, you wouldn`t care in the slightest."

"That´s not true! That´s not true, at all."

Colber didn´t answer, just looked at both sides of the hallway, like he hadn´t not heard he. Empty.

"Come inside."

"Uh?"

"You heard me. There, I will tell you who I really am, and we see if you can say the same things after that. Don´t worry. Is not a long story, and I wont try to do anything untoward."

Longeville just nodded, and stepped into his laboratory. Colbert lighted all the lamps, and then closed the door behind them, but didn´t touch the locks. That would make her nervous, and he didn´t want that. He didn´t know what he pretended by telling her about himself, but he at least was sure of that. Then again, the flame snake and his misadventures would make her nervous anyway, so... Ah, it was so hard to think when drunk. He would never again drink alcohol for the rest of his life. Colbert sat down on a nearby.

"Take a seat, if you want." He said. Longeville nodded, and sat right in front of him, on the same desk. "Ah, how do I start... I am Jean Colbert, and my runic name is Enjya The Flame Snake. I was not always like this, a simply school teacher obsessed with creating things. Long ago, I was a soldier. We were informed that the inhabitants of a certain village, D'Anglettere, were infected with a plague. I was the captain of the troops sent to contain the plague, and I killed, killed and killed without question, ignoring them desperately screaming that there was no plague. I didn´t believe them? Why would I? I was a good little soldier, and I had my orders."

Colbert paused, and looked at her. There was no much change in her expression, but she had bit her lip, and her hands crossed on her lamp. She was distinctly uncomfortable. But he didn´t want to stop, not now. He only had the guts to tell Osmond directly, and that was mostly because he had already knew, so he at least wanted to finish this.

"Want to hear something funny? It was the truth. There was no plague. They were not a treath to our country, or to anybody. The church ordered us to exterminate that village because they were heretics, and nothing else. I found that out, years later. Until then, even if I had the occasional nightmare, I felt proud because I served my country. Do you realize want that means? I am twisted, broken. Can you still say what you did?"

"I..." Longeville bit her lip, harder. "I still don´t think you are a bad person."

"Yeah, right. How can you say that?"

"I... I mean... you didn´t know and even if you say you felt proud about it before you found out, you still regretted it. So, I don´t think you are a bad person. Don´t g-get me wrong, is not like I can look at you the same way I did before, but thats not necessarily a bad thing, right?"

Colbert just stared at her, incredulous, and then looked down. It was pretty much what the head master had said to him, back them but, somehow, those words still ringed hollow to him. So what if he didn´t know? What if he had nightmares? There were so many people, so many, death by the power of his magic. They couldn´t come back, or live happily again. Such a thing as regret was useless; it didn´t change what happened.

"Right." He repeated, bitterly and stood up. "Right. Lets get going, then."

"Mister Colbert..."

"Oh, save it, Miss Longeville. Just save it." Colbert cut her, and grabbed his staff from the side of his bed. Longeville stood up, and they got out of the laboratory. He closed the door behind them, locked it and walked away. He watched Longeville for the corner of his eye, and she seemed about to say something, but she just looked down.

* * *

><p>Osmond heard hurried footsteps, close to him. He froze, and listened. It had be a long time since he needed to be cautious, but it hadn´t not dulled him in the slightest. He turned towards the source of the noise, moments before a person appeared behind a corner. It was one of the water mages, and he seemed familiar, but he honestly wouldn´t remembered it.<p>

"Headmaster!" The man screamed, and he seemed terrified. Osmond gripped his staff tighter. That the man that had stabbed Louise had returned was is first thought, but instantly dismissed it as ridiculous. Better to let the young man explain himself, rather that indulge in idle speculation. He-Michel, right?- reached him, out of breath. "Y-You have to come. Please, you have to come."

"Calm down. Tell me was going on."

"The Valliere Girl..." He muttered, looking to the left and to the right like a madman. Or somebody who was checking if he was still pursued. "She is dead, she is supposed to be dead, but, oh god, she is awake! She is awake, and like a vampire! Rotting skin and glassy eyes! She looked at me, Osmond! She looked at me!"

Osmond grimaced. He didn´t think he was lying, but he also didn´t what him to be right. Colbert had told him than that man had claimed to be Undead, and if something like that happened to him after he had killed him, that would mean that it was true. That, in the heart of Tristania, there was an enemy nobody would defeat. Not to mention, the political consequences of such a thing were not any good, either.

"Okay, okay. I believe you? Is she still in the infirmary?" Osmond said.

"Yes, of course..." Edward-yes, that was it- said, and paled. He looked about to throw out. "God, god, I hope so."

"I am going. Stay here." Osmond said. He muttered the incantation for Leviation, and headed towards the infirmary. When he reached it, he lifted the spell and dropped just in front of the door. He opened it, and slammed it shut behind him. The nursing staff heard him, and looked at him, but didn´t say anything more. He ran towards Louise room, the room where she had supposedly breathed her last just yesterday and found the door half opened. He approached, breathed deeply and gave it a little push. The door swung open, and he saw her, sitting on the infirmary bed. What was left on her.

Her face was a mask of tattered flesh, the skin of her forehead split. She was so thin the school uniform hung out of her body like a flag, and he would see the bones of her ribcage against her decaying flesh. She slowly turned her head to look at him, like a defective wind-up doll and didn´t nothing more.

"Louise?" Osmond said, hardly believing it.

"Louise?" She repeated, drowsily. "Is that my name?"

"Yes, it is." He said, feeling out of place and, then, noticed it. A strage, faded design on her neck. "What... what is that?"

Louise-or maybe, it was not even her anymore-looked down.

"Oh. I don´t know."

"Is dangerous?"

"I don´t know." She said, and grimaced. At least, he thought she had grimaced. Looked at her was hard enougth. "Its uncomfortable. Why I am like this?"

"You..." Osmond muttered, at swallowed. He was too old for this kind of mess, damn it. "You were killed, Louise."

"So, why I am alive?" There was no anger in her voice, nor sadness or fear. He shivered, despite himself.

"I wish I knew." He said, and sighed. "I really do. Just... just lay down, and sleep. If you can sleep. We... we get this sorted out."

In the same instant he had spoke, Osmond wished to shallow these words. There was only one way to sort things out, in this kind of situation. Colbert knew about that, and he, in his time, was far for unaware of it. Still, Louise just blinked, and laid down. He got out of her room, and looked the door behind him.

* * *

><p>Time felt strange, disconnected from its personal flow. One moment, she was staring at the blank, unfamiliar ceiling and the next she felt hands grasping her shoulders. She opened her mouth to say something, may to ask them to let her go or just kill her right here but then she blanked out again, without knowing if she said anything at all. When her conscious returned she was outside, the wind almost pushing her back, in front of a carriage. They dragged her inside, and shut the door. She drew back, and curled into a ball. Her body shook, but not with fear. No, not fear.<p>

"Look at that wrenched creature!" Someone said- a voice far, far away. For a moment, she imaged her teeth sinking into his neck and tearing off his throat. Just for a moment.

There was a strike, and the carriage started. It bobbed, listed, righted itself again and continued through the messy road that seemingly held bumpsrywhere, towards whatever place they wanted to take her. A flash. She saw herself, or who was supposed to be herself, looking up to a man with a blank face. Her mouth moved, and she mouthed something, perhaps is name. The scene disappears,_rots_ and she...

Opens her eyes. She felts groggy, even more weak that before and realizes that she must have be fallen sleep. There was a crack, letting sunlight into the crapped space of the carriage and those men entered. One of them put a mask over her face, but she didn´t resist. Not even when they dragged her outside, by the shoulders. Silence. She would almost fell everyone turning towards her.

"Oh my god, is... is that a corpse?" Somebody said, and the crowd broke out in frantic whispers. The men grabbing her just carried on, and the people gave them a wide berth. She saw a building in the distance. Its name escaped her, now. Or maybe, she never knew. She dozed off. There were other things to think about that the name of a building, or what would happen her. She tried to remember what she had dreamed, and herself.

She couldn´t.

* * *

><p>The Chosen Undead lifted the bottle to his lips, threw his head back and drank, trying to ignore the noisy bar. Escape had be easy. The fire in Court Mott mansion had extended fast, and nobody had even seem it go, not even the servants he had liberated. He had ran far away for Tarbes, two or three villages far away and had walked in like he belonged, his pockets full of money. It had be easy enough, considering he never had to do this sort of thing back at Lordran. For several days now, the locals knew it as a simply commoner called Ryan.<p>

The door opened, and he turned towards it. A tall, hooded man walked into the bar and walked towards the counter. His hands twitched for the knife he had hid in his boot, but no, not now. Giving himself away just because that random person looked a bit suspicious would be stupid. He would do that, no problem, but only if it became necessary. Someone sat at his side, that man, and he prepared for the worst. Nothing happened. The man spoke normally with the bartender, and he served him a drink. He listened closely, but if he had heard that voice before, he didn´t remembered it. Good news. Maybe.

"You are Ryan, right?" The man said, casually. He didn´t show a reaction, but he nearly drew his knife. That didn´t mean anything. He would have heard his name anywhere-it was not a big village.

"What do you want?" He said, grabbed the bottle, took a long ship and send it down.

"Oh." Even thought he was not looking at him, Ryan was sure he was smiling."Straight to the point, I see. Very well. I want to make you an offer."

Ryan stood up.

"Fine, let´s talk." He said, and the hooded man just looked at him for a moment, as if had not be expecting this. Then, he stood up. Great. He didn´t know how, but there was no doubt now: whoever this person was, he was after him. The man followed him out of the bar. He looked around, but he saw no suspicious people. Maybe he was alone; maybe no. He went into the nearest ally, listening closely to the man behind him, all the while. He turned around, and saw that he had draw his wand. "So, is this your offer?"

"This is just insurance. You see, I work for a powerful group-maybe you have heard of it. The Reconquista."

"What do they want? Power for power´s sake?"

"No. Bright down the current government, kill the elves and take back the Holy Land... this is what we what." Yeah, so power for power´s sake. "And you, so called Chosen Undead, would be a good addiction to our cause. So, with the respect you are due, I make this sort. Join us, or die."

Ryan rushed at him.

* * *

><p>They got her inside that building, and she was passed down to two other men, dressed in far too bright robes. Priests, she thinks, but she doesn´t even know the meaning of that word. She was put in a cell, and she dropped in and out of conscious for several hours, until the door opened again and the same priest dragged her out of it, and into a large room with some kind of altar in the center, and lots of decorations. One of them held her down on the altar, and the other one took off a rather old looking book. That was when she realized the mask had be taken off.<p>

"Remove, oh Lord, all wicked creatures from this earth. Let your light guide us, so we would turn all those sweet poisons away! Let your words illuminate us, so we can outgrow this hateful existence! Let the power of your Soul cleanse this body, eject all wickedness and malice from this body. Depart to where you came, all of you impure spirits and tremble, for I call by us the sacred name of Brimir, our Fouder. Tremble, infernal adversary's and know the power of the Void, which dragged us into life!" That design in her neck burned, and she gasped, suddenly uncomfortable and far too aware of what was happening. Of the eyes of that priest, looking at her with hatred on his eyes and the hands of that other one digging into her wraits, pushing her down. That she was going to die. "Behold, he sends his own voice. Acknowledge his voice, know his voice and kneel. Kneel. Be humble under his powerful hand! Begone, begone, begone!"

Nothing happened. The words were said, words of power, but nothing happened. The pain slowly faded away, until she was back to numbness. The priest shuffled through the pages of the book, looking a bit pale.

"Why is not working, Alfred?"

"I don´t know; I have to consult this. Make sure she doesn´t move. " He turned on his heel, and went out of the room. She felt the pressure on her wrists slacked. He was being far too. Perfect. She twisted her body, remembering lessons for her (mother) somebody, and sent him stumbling back, freeing herself. She rolled off the altar, stood up and ran for it.

"What the... " He screamed, as the door slammed shut behind her. She had be out of it when they had brought her there, so she didn´t even know where she was going, but she didn´t care. She couldn´t die like this. She turned a corner, there were more priest there. They stood, frozen, looking at her. She turned around, and ran, only vaguely aware of them screaming for help. She fell like she was floating, and as all the priest appeared around the corners, she forced herself to be one step ahead, just one step ahead, because that was enough. She came into what looked like the main room of the building, and slammed the door with her shoulder. It swung open, and she was outside. The glare of the sun settled down on her almost like a physical weight.

"What the hell is that thing?!" Someone screamed, someone so far away they may as well not be in the same world as her. She ignored it, turned around and somehow found the strength to run.

* * *

><p>Wardes backed down quickly, an incantation on his lips. There was a flash, and Ryan hit his wand with a knife, knocking it out of his grip. He grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and put the knife against his throat. Damn, damn. Too fast. This couldn´t end like this. He had sacrificed far too much to die like this. Ryan stared at him in the eyes, for a moment, as if hoping to read his thoughts. Then, he put one hand against his chest and pushed. He felt on his butt, completely befuddled and watched impotently as Ryan grabbed his wand from the floor.<p>

"I will not kill you, whoever you are. In fact, I will accept your offer." He said. For a moment, Wardes couldn´t believe it. Then, he understood. He was still being pursued by the Tristanian authorities and, even if they had not cached on to him yet, they would, in time. It was the only reasonable answer. He had lied, then. A being who wouldn´t never die couldn´t be afraid of anything. A shame. But having him in their ranks would still be a great benefit. He broke the wand in two, and the pieces fell to the floor, clattering when they hit the ground. "But I will not bow down to anybody. The second this Reconquista becomes an inconvenience, I kill them. Everyone last one of them. Understood?"

Wardes nodded, just nodded.

* * *

><p>She ran through the forest for a long time, without stopping, her whole body aching. She tripping, and fell to her knees upon muddy water. Her chest burned, and she drew in air with short, painful breaths. She tried to stand up, shakily. Footsteps no longer reached her ears, but she had to get as far away as possible. She took another step, her head swung and she had to grab a tree with both hands to not fall.<p>

A breath, she needed a breath and nothing would happen. The forest was as silent as it ever was going to be. She would be fine. She put her back against the tree, and slid down, fighting to keep her eyes open. Still, moment by moment it was getting harder to remember why couldn´t she sleep, even if was just for a moment. She was tired, far too tired.

A shape appeared in the darkness of the forest, and she squinted. Tall, warm and well formed body, brown-red eyes and long, pink hair in two ponytails. That person smiled, and, suddenly, she knew who she was.

"Cattaleya." She didn´t even remember herself, but her sister´s name came easily to her lips. From her dry throat, it sounded raw and almost animal like, but she didn´t care. She extended her trembling arms towards that shape, so achingly close to her. "Cattleya, save me. Save me."

When her finger tips brushed against her sister´s body, she disappeared like she had never be there at all. She let her arms drop to her sides, and just stared, unmoving, hearing the gradually slower beat of her own heart. After a moment, it stopped and she drifted off into the darkness. Her body decayed quickly, like she had spend years buried, leaving her bones almost hanging out of her flesh and her ribcage fully exposed. The darksign burned, and Louise Valliere stood up once more and shambled through the forest, her soul now rotten like her body.

_Hollow._

**Author´s Notes**

****I just want to say that yes, there is a canon compliant reason for Louise getting branded with the Darksign. It will be explained in one or two chapters.****


	3. On The Path

**III: On The Path**

Ryan looked down at the man. His hood had fallen off, revealing an unmarred, almost boyish face if not for his long beard. He didn´t look like a warrior, not at all, but he would still be a threat. Mages needed nothing more that one mistake to kill you. He approached him as he shakely got to his knees and stood up. The man heard him approach, and looked at him right at his eyes. He sneered, turned on his heel and, with a flick of his wrist, motioned for him to follow. Ryan did it, mildly amused that he still maintained his arrogance, despite that he would have killed him at any moment and he would still do so.

As they walked, some of the people turned to look at them. They reached the outskirts of the town, and then that man stopped. There were two horses, tied to the same tree by a long cord. The other took a step forward, untangled one and, in one fast movement, he sat on the riding chair. He grabbed the reins of the horse.

"What are you waiting for?" He said.

"I don´t know how to ride a horse."

"Seriously?" He sneered. "You just walked everywhere, then?"

"Yes." Ryan said. The man just looked at him for a moment, shook his head ruefully and patted the saddle. Ryan approached the horse, put one foot in the one of the supports for them-whatever they were called-, grabbed the horse with both hands and went up unsteadily, almost falling over.

"Hold on." He said, and Ryan grabbed on to his shoulders. The horse barreled forward, through the forest, picking up speed by the moment. Ryan tightened his grip. They rode for hours, the only indication of time passing being the sun slowly retreating behind the horizon. When they finally stopped, it was night. He dismounted first, and Ryan followed behind him. There was a town just in front of them, the many buildings visible only because of the few lights that were still on. They passed some kind of sign, but he understood it even less that the runes. Maybe it was the name of this town, or something like that.

"Is this group of yours here, then?" Ryan said.

"No." He said, and turned his head to look at him. "The headquarters of Reconquista are in Albion. We are here only to board a ship that will take us there."

Ryan nodded, and felt silent. He followed him up a hill, expecting to see a harbor below them, but it didn´t happen. He looked up, up, up. The arbor was a giant tree. He saw ships, a lot of ships, tied to the tree with chains and floating in the air, just like that. Like they were balloons. What kind of magic would do something like this so casually that the man who accompanied him didn´t even give anything a second glace?

He breathed in, and out several times. Questions would come later, now he had to concentrate in what was important. They ended up in front of the nearest ship, and stepped on board. One of the people on the deck approached them, probably the captain.

"Stop." He said. "What do you want?"

"I am noble, and a square class wind mage. I want you to take us to Albion, right now."

"Fine. We talk about payment later." He said, and turned towards the sailors. "Leave port! Untie anchors! Set sail!"

Ryan approached the mast as the sailors ran around doing their tasks, put his back against it and waited. The anchors were taken off and, at first, the ship shank. For one crazy movement, he cursed for being so foolish, almost believing this was all a trap to kill him. Then, the ship floated again and started flying through the clouds. God, he hoped he never had to get accustomed to this. It was not so bad; the ship advanced in a straight line, most of the time, without bobbing or shaking. His head didn´t and he didn´t feel sick, either. It was just...disconcerting. He had only felt something like this once, when the bird had picked him up from the Undead Asylum and dropped in Lordran. He remembered it, far too well. That fear that it had got the drop on him, then confusion and the sound of the wind on his ears. Feeling weightless, head spinning for the far to real sensation of not being held by anything solid, that he would drop to his death in any second.

He hated things like that.

* * *

><p>Ryan could see dark land above the clouds, and it expanded moment by moment. He gripped the rail, hard. There was a city floating between the clouds, just like that. Like it was one big balloon. It was ridiculous, just ridiculous. The ships were one thing, but this was just too much. For what fell like the first time, the Chosen Undead realized what it truly mean to be in another world. It mean much, much more that a simply change of scenery and not having other Undead to worry about. It mean stumbling against things you wouldn´t have done or expected, truly going beyond your depth. A sobering thought, if there ever was one.<p>

The ship descended, and the sailors tied it to the arbor with ropes. He waited for the man to pay and, together, they entered Albion. He guided him through the streets of the city, which looked abandoned despite that he saw the occasional person, for nearly half an hour up to a building. He took off a key from his pockets, and opened the door. There were no lights inside, but the sunlight going through the windows illuminated the place well enough. He stepped inside, and Ryan followed him.

They got up a nearby set of stairs, passed a door and went left to another set of stairs. On the top of the stairs, there was a wide, sturdy looking door. The other took a step forward, and pushed it open, revealing an undecorated, spacious room. Several meters ahead, there was a some stairs that lead to a throne and, just behind it, a big window. There was man sitting there, legs crossed, one hand under his chin. He looked at them as they approached the throne. His companion bended at the waist, one fist over his heart.

"So, Wardes... Is this him?" He said. Wardes lifted his body, looked at him and nodded.

"Yes, Cromwell."

The man on the throne turned towards Ryan, his smile wider.

"Tell me, then, whatever you call yourself now. Where do you come from? What does it mean to be... how do you put it? Ah, yes. The Chosen Undead."

"It doesn´t matter if I tell you or not." Ryan said. "You won´t be able to find that place in any of your maps. As for what it means to be me, I already say it and you should know that much, since your lapdogs managed to find me."

"So..." His smile grew wider. "Is that place beyond even the Holy Land?"

"No. Is not in this world." Ryan said. There was no point in lying now, anyway. Cromwell´s smile disappeared, and his eyes narrowed.

"Don´t screw with me. You are in my dominions, surrounded by my soldiers. You have no chance of survival should I wish for it. Your life is my hands."

"I can´t die." He said-seems he had spoken too soon- and put one hand on the pommel of his sword. "And you are wrong about that last thing, too. Where you not listening? I am Undead. Right now, Reconquista´s fate is my hands. So... I dare you. Give me an excuse to draw my sword. Just one."

They stared at each other, right in the eyes, in silence. Wardes right hand went inside his robes, surely grasping his wand. Ryan´s parted his feet, but didn´t move otherwise. Things went on. Then, Cromwell laughed. His whole body shook, and there where even tears in his eyes. Ryan just stared. It took in nearly a minute to calm down.

"Well, well, this was surely a good acquisition. I don´t regret it in one bit." Cromwell said. His smile widened even more. "Say... die for me, now."

Ryan moved. He grasped Wardes right hand, which had shoot out of his robes, and twisted it. The lance of wind that had be intended to skewer him hit the wall. It blackened, and several stones dropped, but it didn´t sustain mayor damage. He put the tip of the sword against his throat; the hood felt off.

"Shall we go on, Cromwell?" Ryan said. He pressed the tip harder, drawing blood.

"I don´t get it." He said, sounding kind of like a child. "You are Undead, so die. This is nothing personal. It just what to check the merchandise, if you get what I mean."

"For me, dead is merely an inconvenience. But is still an inconvenience."

"What does that mean?"

"It means my body would gradually rot with each death. I stop looking human."

"You have not die yet, then?"

"No. I died, died and died countless times before. The only reason I look like this is because I managed to recover. However, I need something that doesn´t exist in this land to recover, and moving around would become an inconvenience when I look like a corpse. So, I won´t do such a thing as dying pointlessly."

"Uh, fine. But unhand him. He is still useful." Cromwell said. Ryan moved the sword away, and let go of his arm. Wardes seethed, but didn´t make another move. "Well, at least, is clear that you are not all bark and no bite. Lets about what you can do for Reconquista, Undead."

"Fine." He said, and turned towards him.

"One of our agents is stationed in the Tristanian Academy Of Magic. She is the headmaster´s secretary. Tomorrow, the day of the Familiar Exhibition, she will put in motion her plan to steal the Staff Of Destruction. We originally planed to let her handled it alone, but we can´t do so any longer. You killing the Valliere Girl had an unfortunate effect in the security of the academy. So, you will go there and ensure that the Staff Of Destruction gets stolen."

Ryan just nodded.

"Excellent." He said, and sat up. "Now, I like to see your skills for myself. We will guide you to the training room."

Cromwell walked ahead of them, and motioned for him to follow. He did, with Wardes in front of him, behind Cromwell and a few steps to the left. When they were close to another door, Cromwell said:

"Ah, one more thing. How is this so called Undead Curse transmitted?"

"That can´t happen here, for certain reasons." Ryan said, without looking at him.

"Don´t lie. The Valliere girl came back to life, just a few days ago."

"What..." He mumbled, trying to get his thoughts in order. That just wouldn´t happen. He didn´t know for sure what was the Undead Curse, nobody knew for sure, but the darksign was a blight upon mankind because they held the Dark Soul. This was a different world all together; he had already left such things behind. Unless... that kiss... some of his souls got inside her, and it changed her. "That was just because she almost succeeded in binding me. How is she, then?"

"Nobody knows. She escaped, and has not be see since then." Cromwell said. "Anyway, I think about it later. Lets go."

They went away through that door. Soldiers sitting in desks, playing cards or drinking or just talking between each other, looked at them-no, more like, at him- as they went past, but returned to do whatever they were doing without saying anything about it. Seeing their leader face to face was not an every day occurrence but, at least, they were disciplined enough to know when to shut up. Ryan tried to remember their path, to not need to ask for directions later. They ended up in a big, spartan room, almost as big as Cromwell´s throne room. There were soldiers fighting among each other with wooden swords in one side, and, in the other, mages practicing their accuracy. They heard them come, and saw them, but nobody stopped. Cromwell sat in a close seat, in the same posture as on the throne.

"Well, go get a sword and fight, Undead." Cromwell said.

"Fine." Ryan said. He saw a box with four wooden swords, approached and picked up one. Fragile. So fragile. How one would fight like this, even if it was just training, was a wonder. He felt like it would break with just clenching it a bit too hard. Even so, he approached the left side of the training field, because it didn´t really change anything.

"Attention, everybody." Cromwell said. Ryan stopped. The soldiers in the training field lowered their weapons, and turned towards their leader. "This our new acquisition, the Undead who raised hell in Tristania by killing a noble and burning down the mansion of a local count. I want to see his skills for myself, so all of those who wield melee weapons now will fight him. After that, he will fight those with wands. Understood?"

"Understood!" The soldiers screamed, in unison. Ryan stayed silent. When their voices died down, he charged towards the left side, sword held high. They also rushed at him. He got near them, slammed a sword right out of the hands of a soldier and hit him in the nape of the neck, knocking him out. He stepped back, dodging the wild swinging of their swords and hit one of them hard, in the back of the legs, making him fall and knock others down with him. They had the advantage of numbers, but he was fast and they were far to cluttered to react in time, even if they had the ability to do so. They stopped their attacks, spread out and charged at him. One got to him first, and swung at him. He bowed his head, the wooden sword passing right over it and hit the soldier straight in the chest. He gasped, holding his stomach with his hands and felt to his knees. He was to slow, and the next soldier caught him on the shoulder, but he managed to hit him back on the face. He sweep the legs of the next one from under him with his sword, and hit the other one in the heart before he would react.

This was fine at all, but he wouldn´t get this up much longer, not while being so outnumbered, so he striven to put distance between them. If this had be a real fight, he would have just conjured a firestorm to burn them all to a crisp. He barely dodged one swing, aiming for his neck and knocked the sword out of his grip with a strong hit. Ryan kicked the soldier, and continued his retreat. One swing whistled right past his head, and he knocked that soldier out with a hit on his head.

"This is him, them." Somebody said, a female. The soldiers stopped. Ryan, middle confused, looked back at Cromwell. He saw a tall woman, on hig hells, with a tight purple dress and long indigo approach him. She moved gracefully, like Princess Dusk, but there was something in her movements. Something almost predatory.

"Who are you?"

"I am Master´s familiar, the Myozunitonirun, the Mind Of God, but my name is Sheffield." She said. Familiar, the same thing that girl had intended to turn him to. So this woman and Cromwell´s soul were united. It made him pity her, but just a little. "And... you are the one who was supposed to be the Gandalfr, the left hand of god. An Undead, or so you say."

"Were are you going with this?" He said, simply. He didn´t even try to address the terms she casually dropped. Anyway, he seriously doubted he would be able to get a straight answer out of her. Sheffield´s smile widened.

"Fight me. You are not going to show anything, just by fighting these idiots. Face me, and know the weight of the power of the void." Sheffield said.

"I approve it!" Cromwell chimed in.

"Fine, Sheffield. I will do want you want, just this once. But make sure to kept up with me." Ryan said. He let go of the wooden sword, and unsheathed his sword. She raised a hand, and strange creatures suddenly appeared in a circle around her. They vaguely reminded him of the Gargoyles who had be guarding the first Bell Of Awakening, but their similarity was only superficial.

"Gladly." She said, and the creatures leaped at him. Ryan cut one creature down in the air, and retreated. They were fast, deceptively so. Not on Artorias level, but still, it was clear that he wouldn´t take this fight lightly, even if it was just practice. When one try to claw him, he stabbed it in one eye and, with a rapid twist of his body, threw it against the rest of the creatures. They went tumbling down in a heap, slowing them down and he continued to put distance between them. "Was wrong, Undead? Are you afraid?"

He didn´t answer. His skills may be meager, compared to many of the things he had killed back at Lordran, but even he was not amateur enough to waste his breath during a fight. He cut down another creature and, when he looked, he noticed they were the same number. Those things would stop coming as long as Sheffield was still capable of manipulating magical energy, so is only chance to win was to get to her. So he crunched, jumped to the side and, with the creatures behind him, rushed at her. It didn´t last for long. They jumped at him, striking his armor or clinging to him to try at drag him down. He didn´t slow down, just tried to feed them off with his sword. Many fell, many replaced those who had fallen. Sheffield stepped back, seemingly panicked, blue light shining in her hands. Ryan brought the sword above his head, and swung it. A wave of blue light hit the sword, but it just bounced out of it. He stopped himself mere inches from her throat. Slowly, he moved the sword away. Sheffield was _delighted_, like she didn´t know how close she had come to her death. Her smile was predatory, and her eyes were wide and round. Her tongue was sticking out lightly between her parted lips. They had planned this, for the beginning, probably to try to find out his weakness so he could be killed swiftly if he ever became a nuisance to them. But...

Sheffield punched him in the face, knocking the sword out of his grip and driving him to the ground. She straddled him, and began punching his head, repeatedly, with blows as hard as hammers. His head spun. He raised raised his hands to protect his face, only vaguely aware that Sheffield was laughing at the top of her lugs. He waited. Waited for his chance. There. He grabbed her neck with both hands, and pressed. Her laughter was cut off. He kicked her in the stomach, making her fall back to the ground, crawled away and stood up. Sheffield just looked at him, panting, right in the eyes. Silence.

"Well..." Cromwell said. Then, he started clapping. The rest of the soldiers followed suit, even Wardes. "That was quite a show, yes. You will serve Reconquista well. Now, Wardes will show you your quarters, if you wish."

Ryan just nodded. He passed Sheffield, grabbed his fallen sword and sheathed it. When he turned back, Wardes was already walking away, without even looking back to see if he was following. Eh, that must have hurt his pride more that he thought. Even so, he followed him out of the room and into a long corridor filled with rows of doors. Wardes went to the door of the middle, in the left side.

"Here it is." He said, took a set of keys from his pockets and opened it. When he approached, he gave the key to him and walked away. Ryan entered the room, closed the door and locked it with the key. He put the key on the nightstand, settled down on the bed and waited for tomorrow.

* * *

><p>Ryan didn´t sleep. He was tired, but he didn´t sleep. It was not because of caution-he knew damn well that they still needed him-, but just because he couldn´t do it. He didn´t even remember the last time he had sleep, now that he thought about it. Knocking. He sat up, grabbed the key and opened the door. There was a bald, armored man with clear blue eyes behind it, instead of Wardes.<p>

"My name is Vincent De Stael. I am the one assigned to take you to the arbor." He took some kind of parchment for his pockets, and a bag and held them towards him. Ryan grabbed them. "That is a detailed map of Tristania, and that is some money so you can pay a carriage to take you to the Academy. Follow me."

Vincent walked away, and Ryan followed him. On their way out of the building, they passed very few soldiers, fewer that yesterday. He briefly wondered what they were doing. Soon, they reached the harbor. Vincent talked with the captain of a nearby ship and, when he told him to, Ryan stepped on board. He put his back against the mast, and waited. The anchors were taken off by the sailors, and the ship took flight towards Tristania. After an hour, at the most, they were already about to land in another arbor. Ryan was mildly confused, because the last flight had took much longer, but he didn´t think much about it. Probably, it was just that it was a faster ship or the sailors were better or both. He brought transportation with the money Vicent had given him, and it took him to the forest near the academy. When the carriage went back, he hid between the tress and waited for his cue.

Not much later, Ryan watched as a big, bright pink carriage entered the academy, surrounded by armed men on horses and several men flying over it, riding strange avian creatures. When the door opened for them, he saw that a crowd of students had gathered in the courtyard. He remained unmoving, listening to the hustle and bustle of the crowd, until he fell the earth quake. This was it. He climbed a tall enough tree, jumped on the top of the wall and ran for it.

Ryan didn´t go far before he saw it, a huge rock monstrosity with a hodded person on its shoulder, cape blowing in the wind. It was pouching a tower, so hard the ground shook every time, but it had yet to show any signs of damage. He looked to the side, and saw what looked like a dragon with two girls mounted over it. One of them brandished her staff, and icicles hit the mostrisity on the back. It didn´t even seem to notice.

"Damn, damn." It took him a moment to notice than that voice, clearly of a woman, came from the person on the thing´s shoulder. "Why is not working?"

The things swung its arm at the wyvern, but it dodged it easily. At this rate, Fouquet was going to get captured without even having touched that staff. Ryan lifted a hand, prepared and waited for the right moment. There. His hand crackled with electricity, and he sent a Sunlight Spear after the wyvern. They didn´t even see it coming. It exploded near them, sending the dragon crashing down, on fire. Then, he lifted it again and sent another Sunlight Spear flying. It hit the tower, and made a hole, big enough for one person to fit through. Fouquet looked back once towards him, then jumped inside. Ryan unseated his sword, as soldiers came en manse to this part of the courtyard. Most went after Fouquet, but some noticed him and levitated to the walls to get at him.

They were mostly clustered together, so he send a Fireball to the center of the group. Some of them got away, but most got caught in the explosion, sending them flying. If they didn´t die because the flames, then when the fall broke their necks. He dodged the spells the remaining soldiers fired, most of them panicked and wildly out of target and put some distance between them. The earth shook, again. Ryan raised his head, and saw the monstrosity coming towards them. It crushed the soldiers on the wall with an almost casual movement, picked it him up in one hand and stepped over the wall. The hand dropped him on one shoulder, and he gripped tightly to the monstrosity to not fall off.

"Just who the hell are you?" Fouquet said. He noticed she was gripped a black case in her left hand. "How the hell did that spell make a hole in the vault when my Golem couldn´t?"

"This is not the time for this." Ryan said, and looked back. "Just how fast is this thing?"

"Fast enough." She said, and then something hit him in the back. He screamed, lost his balance and fell back, out of the golem. He hit the ground, and...

A crack.

* * *

><p>It burned, something burned. The darksign. Ryan opened his eyes, again. It took him a few moments to remember where he was, and what was he was doing. His throat was tight, and he would smell what had become almost indistinguishable during the weeks of dying, dying, dying and living in Lordran-the smell of his own rotten flesh. He saw the hands of that Golem dig into the ground, on each side.<p>

"What..." Fouquet said. He lifted his head, and regarded apathetically. She seemed afraid. Ah, yeah. This armor didn´t have a helmet, didn't it? "Just... how the hell...?"

"I..." He hacks out a cough. "I am Undead. I thought they told you that much."

"Yes, but I... I didn´t..." Fouquet muttered, then the golem´s right hand opened. "Anyway, get it. They are going to catch up."

Ryan forced himself to his feet, and jumped on the open hand. It rose, and put him back on the Golem´s shoulder. He grabbed into it, hard as it continued its advance. The ground and trees were crushed under its foot. Dimly, he saw Fouquet looking back. Then, the golem stopped and she threw the black case to the ground.

"Grab my hand." She said, and he did. The Golem dissolved beneath his feet, and crumbled, obscuring everything with a massive cloud of dust and rock. They should have be fallen, but they didn´t. Even if he had see for himself those mages levitating, it still took him by surprise. Fouquet and he, gripping her hand, slowly descended to the ground. When they landed, Fouquet grabbed the case and together they ran for it, under the cover of the dust.

**Author´s Notes**

**The explanation The Chosen Undead gives about what happened to Louise is innacurate. The real explanation will come next chapter... probably.**


	4. The Beating Of His Heart

**IV. The Beating Of His Heart**

Ryan closed the door behind them, and locked it. He hadn´t wanted to stop, but Fouquet had insisted in taking a breath in this little cottage for whatever reason, so he went along with it. H didn´t think they were taking a huge risk, they had already left their pursuers behind a lot time ago, he just didn´t like the idea of essentially wasting their time. He followed the thief to the center of the building, and watched as she set down the case on the top of a desk. He found himself leaning forward, despite everything. It was one more piece of the puzzle of this new world, and, if it was as powerful as is name indicated, it would be useful to him when Reconquista decided to kill him off. Fouquet unlocked the case, and opened it.

Inside, there was a big and thin green tube. On its side, there were words or runes scribled that he wouldn´t react. Ryan frowned. It didn´t look like much. He knew that looks were always were deceitful, but, really, what would something like this do? It was hard to believe this was a weapon, in the first place. But, well, he was not stupid. Didn´t look impressive, that much was true, but if it was not a powerful weapon they wouldn´ have kept it locked behind a vault. Fouquet picked the Staff up, though it didn´t look at all like a staff, and started waving it around, muttering an incantation under her breath. For a moment, Ryan worried it was some sort of amplifier and that reckless idiot was going to blow them up, but nothing happened. Nothing. Not even a spark.

"What the hell?" She sneered. "How is this supposed to work, then?"

"We don´t know, and we shouldn´t care, either." Ryan said. Fouquet turned sharply towards him. "In the first place, our job is to get that thing to the Headquarters and nothing more."

"So what of it? Image we get cornered. We would use this thing to get out of it, but first we have to figure out of it works."

"The longer we stay here, the bigger the odds of something like that happening get. And it looks like you won´t figure it out."

"I know that, you bastard!" She screamed, and then, more softly, like she was on the verge of tears: "I know. So, if you are so fucking smart, suggest something."

Ryan looked at that so called staff. Dimly, that small black thing, surrounded by some kind of handle, cached his attention. Something occurred to him, then: it was like a bow. That thing was some kind of trigger. And the arrows were, maybe, preloaded spells that came out for the other side of the tube. Everything he knew told him it was not possible, but this was a different world. So, he pointed to that thing.

"Aim at something, and press that."

"Uh? That thing? Fine." Fouquet muttered, aimed at the table, muttered an incantation under her breath and, when finished, pressed that strange trigger. There was a some sort of click, but, again, nothing happened. She scowled. "Now what?"

He opened his mouth, and then something hit in the back, driving him back against the wall and bouncing him out of it, screaming. He was only dimly aware that he had lost his sword. It fell to the ground, rolled, and came to a stop when it hit a corner. Then, there was one more hit on his chest and his things crashed against the legs of the desk, and he fell, bringing the table down with him. Ryan stood up shakily, ears ringing and lifted a hand surrounded by fire. He had time to recognize that man in the courtyard, surrounded by a great snake made out of fire, before he shot the fireball. Fire shot out of the man´s staff, and it dissipated his own fireball like it was nothing.

"You!" The man screamed. The snake of fire writhed, like his shape was nothing but a temporary cage. The glass for a nearby cabinet shattered suddenly, sending broken glass flying. "You!"

Ryan launched himself forward, hand extending towards his sword. A fireball exploded near him, sending him stumbling back and the sword flying out of the window. He somehow righted himself, and jumped out of the window. He hit the ground, rolled, got to his feet again and ran for it. There was an explosion behind it, but it didn´t matter. No for now. He picked up his sword, and turned towards the cottage just in time to hear a distinctively feminine scream. Fouquet was probably dead, then. No matter. Cromwell didn´t say anything about keeping her alive. A moment later, the window he had jumped through and part of the walk melted, and that man nonchalantly stepped over the ashes and went outside, towards him. Ryan didn´t move.

"Why?" The man spat out, and another gush of fire shot out towards him. Ryan stepped out of the way. "Why did you kill her?"

Ryan didn´t answer, and cut down a fireball aimed at his heart in half. Combat was not a place for words. But if he would have send him a though, he would have sent this one: _Why? Don´t fuck me with me. She tried to take away my freedom. Nobody has that right, no matter how strong or big they are. I may be be nothing but a husk that refuses to die, but I finally got my freedom and I rather go hollow that live caged once more, driven by the whims of some higher power. I kill all you fuckers. I have done so before, and this time will be no different._

"_Answer_ _me!_" The man screamed, and a fireball went whirled past his head. He didn´t even have to dodge. That idiot was so shaken up that is aim was throw off. "Do you heard me, you monster?!"

Ryan stood his ground, and kept slashing the fireballs away, while maintained a healthy distance between them. His frenzied attacks were too fast for him to attack, but he eventually would burn himself up. Such a strategy was risky, since it would just prolong the battle and increase the chances of more people finding them, but he didn´t have the luxury of doing anything else. He had already died once. He missed his stride, and a fireball hit him right in the chest, sending him flying. His back hit a tree, and slumped down to the ground, holding back a scream. He defiantly raised his head towards that man, and unleashed the Force Miracle when he got close enough. The shock wave knocked him off his feet. Ryan stood up, lifted his sword above his head and aimed for his heart. That man moved, and the sword dug deep into the ground, just a few inches for his face. He was about to lift the sword once more, when he felt it and lifted his head. A ball of flame was floating right over him.

"What..."

"Die." The man said, coldly and then Ryan understood, but it was too late. The ball of flame exploded harmlessly, but then his vision briefly went white, felt the air being sucked for his lugs and suffocated before he could do anything.

* * *

><p>Ryan opened his eyes, moaning weakly. He was laying on the grass, and that man was standing over him, still holding into his staff and screaming at him, hitting him strongly in the head with clenched fits. It spun. It took him a few moment to realize he was not holding his sword, and even more to make out his words, punctuated by each strike.<p>

"You don´t deserve to live! Bastard, you are nothing but a monster! Whatever reason you may have doesn´t matter, it never mattered. She was just a child! A _child_! She had a life! Dreams! And you destroyed it all, and for what?! Because you are a selfish fuck?! Because you got off when you watched her bleeding out, sprawled on the ground?! Uh? Is that it?! Is that it, you bast...?!"

Ryan dug his hands on the man´s neck, and pressed. He gasped, and his hands went to pry off his own, but he was stronger that him. Much stronger. They didn´t even budge. He tried to gasp out an incantation, but he just pressed harder. His eyes bulged. His face gradually loss color. Ryan would almost fell the force that man´s movements had leaving him. Then, he twitched, once, and went still. He searched for a pulse, just in case it was some kind of trick. None. He threw the corpse aside, stood up, picked up his sword and went towards the cottage. He entered through the hole in the wall the other had made, and knelled besides Fouquet´s prone body. It was not likely, but he searched for a pulse. There was. It was faint, but there was a pulse.

Ryan grabbed her shoulders, and shook her. She mumbled something unintelligible under her breath, but she didn´t wake up. Fine. He stood up, and kicked her in the ribs. She doubled over, coughing, and her eyes shot open. She glared up at him.

"What was that for, asshole?" She mumbled, hoarsely, her eyes wet. "Wait... what happened?"

"That man attacked, knocked you down and tried to kill me. I killed him." Ryan said. It may have be nothing but his imagination, but he could have sworn she had grimaced. A thief who was not comfortable with killing? Ridiculous. "Now, let´s go."

Fouquet slowly nodded, and stood up. She stared at him intently, for a few moments.

"You look... well, even worse."

"Because he managed to kill me once. Do you have more questions or can we kept going?"

"Yeah, yeah." She said, and picked up the case of the staff. "You are a real drag, you know?"

* * *

><p>Before parting, she took off the cloak and gave it to him. He grabbed it, and put it on without question. Now that he got his first got look at her, he realized she was a rather fair lady. Not on the looks department, but how she handled herself. That kind of grace didn´t come easily. It made him idly wonder what happened for her to turn to robbing, even though there were not that many possibilities. Either she had be striped off her title because of a crime or her family had be erased.<p>

Ryan watched, at first befuddled, as she let her hair down, rubbed her face with something that colored her cheeks, and then went behind another door, saying she was going to change. Maybe so he didn´t assume she wanted to have the staff for herself. Even so, he approached the door and listened for his cue. There was the rustle of clothing, and the stirring of the wind, but nothing more. Not the sound of glass shattering, the window opening or just complete silence, which could mean she was levitating away. When he heard footsteps coming towards the door, he stepped back silently and acted like he hadn´t done anything. She told him she had used this place before as a hideout, and showed him that she had horse there. Just one. Saved him time, at least. Then, they mouthed, and she rode towards the port.

The ride went on for an hour or so. When they stopped, Fouquet sold the horse, and then they got into the arbor. She paid for the ride. This time, he closed himself in a free room to minimize the chances of his face being discovered by one of the sailors prancing around the ship. The sail took longer that before, thought not much. He had already memorized the way to the Headquarters, but he let Fouquet guide him anyway. They got inside, and went to Cromwell throne room. He was sitting there, with Sheffield by his side. Fouquet took a step forward, and put the case of the staff in front of Cromwell.

"Well done, you two." Cromwell said, then motioned something to Sheffield, and she threw a bag filled with money to Fouquet. She grabbed it in the air without saying a word. He gave her the hood back, not needing any prompting, and she went away. When he turned around towards them, he found Cromwell looking pensively at him. "What happened? You died, obviously, but how exactly?"

"I fell out of her golem because I was attacked, and broke my neck. Then, a Pyromancer..."

"Pyromancer? Is that the equivalent of a fire mage in your land?"

"Yes." Ryan said. "Anyway, a fire mage whose name I don´t know managed to find us, knocked out Fouquet and then managed to kill me by... I don´t know exactly how he did it, but he cut off my air and I chocked in an instant."

Sheffield stepped away for Cromwell, descended the stairs, opened the case of the staff and grabbed it. For a moment, she seemed utterly taken a back, almost terrified, then her face returned to her normal expression and she twirled it idly in her hands.

"Such a strange little thing, Master. The runes didn`t react." She said. Ryan filled that away for future reference. "Maybe its magic is somehow locked, or this Staff Of Destruction is nothing but a hoax and we have be wasting our time."

"Uh." Cromwell said. "Maybe. Take that thing to be examined, please."

"Yes, master." Sheffield said, and went out the room.

"Ah, Undead, one last thing." Cromwell said. "In two days, Wardes will pave the way to our conquest of Albion, so prepare yourself."

Ryan nodded, and went to his room. He locked the door behind him, made himself comfortable on the bed, and tried to sleep.

* * *

><p>Artorias was strong, much stronger that him. Even though he was nothing more that a beast swallowed by the dark, his skills were far above his own, and he was fast, too fast, faster that anybody he had ever fought before. The force of his blows send his teeth rattling, and more that once he had nearly let go of his sword. This knight had already killed him, so many times and with ridiculous ease. If things kept on like this, he was going to go Hollow. He had to... ah, there. He spotted a blind spot in his guard, and stabbed his chest. His sword went through Artorias already cracked armor, and stabbed him in the heart. When he brought his sword back, Artorias fell to the ground. He was dying. He looked up at him, and he saw mild surprise that his eyes were shining brightly.<p>

"Ah, Sif." Artorias said, extending a hand towards him. He grasped that weak, trembling hand, only thinking that it was so hard to believe that this was the hand on the one that had killed him so many times. "There you are."

His body went limp, and he left his hand fell back to the ground. He looked down at his corpse. At least, he would now sleep in peace. Maybe even reunite with his companion, Sif, the great gray wolf. Cold comfort, but better that no comfort at all. He walked up the room, sword held high and advance towards his goal, towards Manus, the King Of The Abyss. No matter what, he wouldn´t die here. He had still not experience what living was really like, and this decayed, faded world depend on him lighting the flame. He would do it.

He was the only one that could do it.

* * *

><p>Ryan opened his eyes, feeling groggy and rather uncomfortable. It had be a long time since had sleep. In Lordran, sleeping was as much of a luxury as being alive. He briefly though about what to now, but the next mission was still a day away, so he doubted Cromwell would send him on a mission today. Besides, if he needed him, he could send one of his soldiers to his room. So, he didn´t sit up, just kept on staring at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts.<p>

The bed was soft and rather fluffy, unlike the cold ground where he had rested for naught but a few moments after finding each bonfire. Ryan could really get used to this. Better to think about that than about this world, who had no Undead to worry about, yet peace was still an illusion. His thoughts drifted back to Solaire. He had not tried to calm Solaire down in anyway, just answered his assault with violence of his own and a put him down like one would put down a rabbit down. Something that had to be done, and no more. He had felt regret when looking into his dying face, and his last words

(_Its dark, so dark...)_

had made him break down, but the gist of it was that he had not hesitated, not even for a second, and he had considered Solaire his friend. Was this true human nature, then? It certainty seemed like it was. These humans were not born out of the dark, yet they were all like that. Killed other humans out of hatred, and other petty reasons. They didn´t understand. They didn´t understand what was scurrying around the ruins of a fallen kingdom like a rat, under attack by monsters, dying time after time, always so painfully close to going Hollow and losing everything.

No, they didn´t understand.

They couldn´t never understand.

* * *

><p>The day passed quickly, almost without him noticing. Ryan sleep again during the night, but this time he didn´t dream anything. Or at least, he didn´t remember dreaming. He got out when the first rays of sunlight entered through the window, and went to Cromwell´s throne room. There was just him, sitting on the throne and Sheffield on his side, like always. As soon as he entered, Cromwell began the briefing. He was addressing the group, so Ryan assumed he was using some sort of spell so his voice would reach all of the headquarters. After finishing his speech, Cromwell told him were to go, and he did. Together with the other soldiers of Reconquista he waited for the signal Wardes was supposed to sent, him sharing a horse with a random soldier, touching the pommel of his sword.<p>

There. A lance of air streaked across the night sky and exploded. Ryan saw their ships advance towards the palace, just as the group leader gave the order to move. It was a short run. Reconquista´s headquarters were just a few meters away for the palace. The place was utterly silent. They didn´t even suspect something had gone real wrong. They moved as silently as possible for such a large and well armored ground, and quickly descended upon the unsuspecting soldiers of the royal family all holed up in the dining room. He contentiously killed the soldiers that came near him, dodged a few spells and went towards the king. Him, whatever was his name, had a few soldiers right in front of him. Some of the soldiers wildly fighting against Reconquista took notice of what he was doing, and tried to make their way towards him. Didn´t matter.

Two rushed him, wielding sharps wands-much like Wardes one. He kicked one of them aside, and touched the others one face with one hand burning him to a crisp in an instant. The ones who had stayed behind, though they looked horrified, didn´ lose their courage. He sidestepped the first spell almost casually, and cut the second one with his sword. The third spell, an almost solid looking blast of fire, hit him in the chest, knocking him back a few steps. Shit, that was dangerous. Damn it.

"What is this?!" Somebody screamed. Then, a scream of pure terror, distinctively of the same person. It was a strange. Unless one of the Albions´s soldiers had be sleeping and just waked up, something new had happened to surprise then. He briefly though about it, but decided that he didn´t have the time to waste. The king was not dead yet.

Ryan avoided a lance of air send by the king himself, without stopping his run. He got close enough and unleashed the Force Miracle, knocking the three remaining soldiers and the king down to the ground. He approached the king knocked down body, and crushed his throat with his boot, killing him instantly. He quickly slit the throat of the soldiers who were just getting up, and briefly looked back.

What he saw made his heart speed painfully in his chest. The corpses stretched all across the dinning hall were sitting up, looking at themselves with horror. And, blazing in their necks, was the darksign. No. No. It couldn´t be happening. How was this possible? This was a whole different world, he was supposed to have left such things behind.

"'Put them down! Put those abominations down!" No matter how impossible it should be, it was real. The darksign was spreading. He felt something brush his ankle, then grasp it and looked down. One of the soldiers who had be protecting the king was there, moaning weakly while crawling on the ground, his hand without barely any strength. His teeth gridded together.

"Why?" The soldier spat out. "What... what did you bastards do to us?"

Ryan raised his other left, and drove him back down on the soldier´s head, squashing it down. The hand holding it went limp, and he took a few steps back. Bad. This was really bad. If is enemies had to be killed a few times to finally put them down for now on, then his primary weakness just got even worse. Not to mention what the spreading of the darksign could do this world. Is dream of someday living peacefully was impossible now. Ah, anyway. First of all...

"Don´t worry!" Ryan screamed, even though this would also lift the morality of the enemy. "They can die and will die for real! Just kept on killing them!"

He had to find Wardes, and explain things to him. This was no longer a simple assault mission. If the darksign was spreading across Halkagenia, and it was, then things like retaking the Holy Land didn´t matter anymore. They should turn Reconquista´s resources into trying to survive. But how to find him? He knew he was in the chambers of the prince, but he didn´t know where that was. Shit. He should have asked, he should have know that...

Ryan stopped in his tracks, all his panic forgotten. For a moment, he though it was just his imagination but no, the reality of it couldn´t be denied. Beyond the battle, there was a strange tune playing, rising to a melodious note and then back down, wavering. It was beautiful, really beautiful. He walked towards the door, over the corpses, over the still alive soldiers reached it and opened it, only dimly aware that he had stopped hearing anything but that song, even his own heartbeat. Had he stopped hearing it or had his heartbeat stopped? Whatever. It didn´t matter.

He loss his balance, and felt against the wall. Coughing, he straightened and continued walking, one hand on the walk to support himself, following that beautiful melody. He could see something, things, out of the corner of his eye. It would have be anything. A trick of the light, an illusion... or things as human as himself, walking beyond their last breaths, coming to take his life. Yes, all of them came for his life, armed with swords and lances and spikes, some not even human, ancient beasts who should have died long ago slithering thorough the corridors after him. Perhaps just for his blood, but surely, _surely_, after vengeance. He would heard their footsteps, approaching, their eager paths.

_And The Red Dead held sway over them all_, he incoherently thought, and his head spun violently. His back hit the wall and he slumped down. That though followed him as he spiraled down, into the darkness.


	5. Quickening

**V. Quickening**

Darkness complete and utter darkness. Ryan couldn´t even see the shape of his surroundings, and he had his eyes open. Or at least, he fell like he had. Idly, for just a moment, he wondered if he was looking into the dark he was made of. Then, with a start, he remembered. He had followed that strange tune, until he passed out, so he had to be dreaming. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. Was he hearing footsteps approaching or was it just the hammering of his own heart? He licked his cold lips, open his eyes again and saw, right in front of him, the world changing, slowly being surrounded by fog and taking a form again, like a puzzle. Sometime while he stared at it, he became aware of the ground under his feet. He dragged himself to his knees, and finally stood up.

This place... what the hell was this place? He couldn´ have be still dreaming, everything fell to real for that, but just a minute ago he had be in the palace of the Albion Royal Family, going after Wardes and now he was here. The fact´s just didn´t add up. Then again, in this strange new world the facts didn´t matter. That tune had some kind of enchantment to make him follow it in the middle of battle, so that the magic of it could do something like this was not impossible. In fact, it was the only reasonable answer. He scoffed. This was reasonable, now. His life was really fucked up. Always had been.

"Yes." Ryan heard. It took him a moment to realize it was not his own voice. His hand went to his sword, and he turned and turned, looking for the source of the voice. "But that is how it will be, always, for Undead."

"Who are you? What do you what with me?" Casually dropping terms like that, it made him fell uneasy. Either that thing was reading his mind or it was not for this world.

"Both." The same voice ringed, in the deeps of the fog. "But don´t worry, I am not your enemy. In fact, I am the only person you can trust."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes." And a man appeared between the fog, right in front of him. Ryan quickly unsheathed his sword. "Don´t be so hasty. We have much to talk about."

"Answer my questions, then."

"Oh, I was going to do that." He laughed. "In the Age Of Ancients the world was an unformed, shrouded by fog. It was a land of gray crags, Archtrees and Everlasting Dragons. But then, there was Fire..."

"I already know this." Ryan said. "Get to the point."

"And with Fire, came disparity." The other continued. He frowned, but didn´t make another move. Maybe there was a good reason."Heat and cold, light and dark and, of course, life and death. Then, from the dark, they came and found the Souls Of Lords within the flame. Nito, the First of The Dead. The Witch Of Izalith and her daughters of chaos. Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight and his faithful knights. And..."

The man snapped his fingers, and an image formed in the fog. A human, what looked like a human, kneeling and taking something burning between his hands. His heart almost stopped. The man on the image, the furtive pigmy, and the one standing before him were similar. Too similar.

"...The Furtive Pigmy, so easily forgotten." The image shifted to a knight, facing down a roaring dragon. "With the strength of Lords, they challenged the dragons. Well, the rest of them, anyway, because I was long gone."

"You are the Furtive Pigmy?" He muttered, even though he already knew the answer.

"The Dark Soul is special. From it, humanity, my descendants, were born, each one with a piece of it. What I wanted the most was that, one day, one of my descendants would use the power of The Dark Soul, the strongest of The Lord Souls, to kill all gods and rule over humanity as the Dark Lord, the one who would guide them and give them safety. An Age for humanity. Such a beautiful thing would be worth any sacrifice. But, one day, The Dark Soul took me for my world and into this one. It was much like it, at the beginning, only filled with all sorts of creatures instead of Everlasting Dragons. I created humanity, once again." Uh. So that was why the darksign was spreading. "I took on a new name, Brimir, and together, we killed and killed and killed, for the sake of our pace. Even Elves, strange creatures similar to humanity, who hated us deeply. Through they were strong, ridiculously strong, I discovered the true depths of The Dark Soul, what is now called Void Magic, and so we managed to drive them to the brink of extinction. I searched for a way home, but couldn´t find it and, in time, I realized my children needed something more to dealt with this world. So, I split The Dark Soul into four big pieces, the keys of Void Magic, to be passed down between the descendants who had more of my blood. That killed me."

"Killed...? Then, what are you?"

"Yeah, that´s right. I am not really the Furtive Pigmy, but nothing more that a residual image created because of the power of The Dark Soul. Still, I may as well be him, so don´t hesitate to ask me questions."

"Why did you bring me here?" Ryan asked, staring intently at the Furtive Pigmy. Or Brimir. Or whatever.

"Oh, don´t look at me like that. I planned on it, of course, but that it happened now was pure chance. I couldn´t even be sure you where the right one, The Dark Lord, until you entered this system." He extended his arms. "You see, we split this world into four kingdoms. Albion, Germania, Romalia and Tristania. To each of those four, I gave them one item to safe guard created by the power of The Dark Soul. The item of Albion is a music box."

"So..."

"Yes. The tune of that music box, stolen by that man named Wardes, was what brought you here. As for why, is because there was a possibility you would enter this world, and if that happen you would need my help." The Furtive Pigmy turned towards him. "But still, our time together is limited, so let me ask you a question this time. What do you intend to do?"

Ryan held his stare for a few seconds, then looked away and bit his lip so hard he drew blood. After a few moments of thinking, it didn´t become any cleared that it was before.

"I don´t know." He said.

"With the darksign spreading, the four kingdoms will be soon be at war. Trustfully, even if it hadn´t happened, war would have broken out anyway. So, make a choice. You have to do it."

"I... All I ever wanted was to life. So, like always, the only path left for me is battle. To change this world, and rule above everybody else. Be the Dark Lord I was supposed to be."

"Uh. You do me proud, after all." He clapped, once. "Let me tell you something good. We did build a lot of bonfires here, but fewer that those back in our world. Obviously. One of those bonfires is right there, in the royal palace of Albion. Just get the music box, and you will be able to unlock the secret door behind the throne. When resting near that bonfire, you should be able to know how many are there in each kingdom. That will be useful in making your way to the top, even if you can´t get the exact localizations."

Ryan slowly nodded.

"Good. Then, my child, face forward with pride. The children of here got poisoned by the power of magic, and have lost their ways. But if its you, who had already changed another world, this corrupt one can also be changed." He raised a hand, and snapped his fingers.

Then, there was light.

* * *

><p>Ryan conscious returned slowly. His tiredness faded like a mist, and that made way to pain everywhere, from his head down to the soles of his foots. He didn´t think he could be capable of moving. He didn´t want to move. Even his fingers hurt. There was a sharp hiss, and a scream of pure terror, close by. He lifted his head, and saw Wardes right in front of him, the music box in one hand and his wand on the other, watching one of the Albionese soldiers fall to the ground, a bleeding line running from his shoulder down to his chest. He dragged himself to his feet. Just then, he noticed it. There was an amulet hunk across his neck, with a strange design. His hand moved to remove it, but he put it back down again. It had appeared after his meeting with the Pygmy, so it was not wise to get it off. He may need it. He heard Wardes sneer, and looked up at him.<p>

"What the hell happened to you? Did you think now was the perfect time to take a nap or what?"

"It doesn´t matter." Ryan said, and extended a hand. "Give me the music box."

Wardes eyes narrowed, and his grip on his wand tightened.

"What do you want with it?"

"Is important, now that the curse of the undead is spreading. Give it to me."

"No."

"Give it to me, or I kill you." Wind blew against him, and even though he fought to stay upright, he was sweep off his feet and hit the other wall, which cave in for the force of the impact. His sword went tumbling out of his grip. He was dimly aware of a deep gash on the side of his face, and the blood running down. Supporting himself with one hand on the wall, he stood up and unsheathed his sword as Wardes advanced. He split off, again and again, and when it was over seven Wardes were standing before him, wands held high. Ryan turned around, and broke into a run down the nearest hallway, wishing to put some distance between them.

"I don´t know was gotten into you, and I don´t care." One of the clones said-maybe the real one. "Truthfully, this is for the best. I hated you since we first meet, even before you humiliated me. There is no way I would be a comrade to someone like you. I kill you... Cromwell will be disappointed, of course, but no matter how useful you could be now you are just a nuisance to Reconquista, so he will understand. But first,_first_, I will make you suffer."

Ryan went right and, when he reached the half way point, he stopped in his tracks, turned around, raised a hand and waited. He heard the approaching footsteps and, one second before he saw one of the clones turning the corner, he unleashed the Combustion Pyromancy, sending a blast of fire from his fingertips that burned the clone to a crisp. He approached it, and when he turned the he didn´t see anybody. He involuntarily muttered a low confused noise under his breath, then, quickly turned around and slashed apart the lance of wind coming from him with his sword. All the remaining Wardes´s were there, on the other side of the hallway. He barely dodged another lance of wind, frantically thinking about what do, and dived around the next corner. Several lances of wind cut through the air where he had be naught but a moment before. Ryan pressed his hand against the wall, still holding on to his sword.

"Let me tell you something. This spell is not merely to create doubles, but Ubiquitous Wind. Each of them has the power of the original." One Wardes said. Ryan would almost felt his satisfied smile. "Last time, you caught me by surprise. I couldn´t even cast a single spell. But now, I am on the top. And I will give you the pain that you deserve! Every last drop!"

Stupid. He was really an arrogant fool, wasting words in battle, but Ryan couldn´t deny he had the power to back up his arrogance. Six. God knows if he could create more and more and more, but for now, it was six. Simple enough. And, besides, no matter how many how many times he could clone himself, everything will be over the instant the real Wardes falls. He stood up, and stepped out to meet them.

"Oh? So you finally step out to your dead. You stupid little pup, now you will get was coming to you, by the Founder, you will." One Wardes sneered, raising his wand to the skies. It began to crackle with electricity. The other ones followed after him. Ryan didn´t move, but held the Great Lighting Spear miracle at the ready. A little more. Just a little more. "Lighting Cloud!"

Now. He launched the spell, aiming for the big mass of lighting all the Wardes´s had released together. It cut through it cleanly, but it didn´t manage to stop it, just slowed it down a little while it reformed, though greatly reduced in size. Ryan watched, eyes wide, then tried to move away. He couldn´t. He had only had a single moment of hesitation yet, he couldn´t. The mass of lighting hit his body. His back arched, his vision went white and he felt himself crackling with electricity. He felt his flesh peeling, burning with a disgusting smell. His heart stopped.

* * *

><p>Ryan slowly opened his eyes, once more, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The darksign was shining, once again, but his light slowly faded completely. When he raised his head, he saw Wardes advancing towards him, the real Wardes, with a crazed expression with the two copies just behind him, pointed their wands at him. Somewhat unsurprised, he noticed the amulet was there and also undamaged.<p>

He though about cutting him apart right there, cutting them all apart, and only then did he realize that he had loss his sword. It became increasingly hard to keep his eyes open. He raised a shaky hand, and tried to launch a Pyromancy, but Wardes muttered an incantation quickly and an air lance cut his throat cleanly, nearly severing his head from his body and killing him.

* * *

><p>When Ryan´s conscious returned, he was staring at the blank ceiling, breathing heavily, his head firmly attached to his neck and the light of the darksign just fading out. The three Wardeses were surrounding him, looking down at him. It was faint, but he could hear one of them already chanting, probably the real one. Damn. He didn´t have much time. He put one hand on the ground, and unleashed the Firestorm Pyromancy.<p>

Pillars of flame shot out from the ground around them. It burned him a little bit, but it set the three others on fire, their wands too, and cut off that incantation. Two of them disappeared like mist, and one remained, the real Wardes, his skin peeling, showing the meat and bone beneath his body, screaming in pure horror and pain. His eyes were wide, too wide, and glazed over. The burning Wardes stumbled towards, nearly falling with every step. Ryan tried, and did stand up, but when he took a step back from Wardes, he lost his balance and fell down again. So, he reached him, put his scorching hands around his throat and pressed, still howling like a dying beast. He gasped for air, and his hands went to Wardes ones, trying to pry them off, without caring that he was only going to get himself burned. They didn´t budge. The room grew darker. All sounds, even Wardes screams, began to fade. Then...

(_And the Red Dead held sway over them all_.)

Wardes went limp. Ryan took a long, deep breath as his went away from his throat, stumbled back and fell down, dead. He almost fell himself, but he managed to hold himself up with one hand on the wall. His conscious wavered, like it would float away from him in any second. He approached his corpse, and raised the sword above his head, waited for his resurrection. He saw the darksign being slowly carved in Wardes neck. When his body shook once, he drove the sword down, decapitating him cleanly. The darksign burned. His head reconnected to his neck, and, when Wardes breathed again, Ryan decapitated him once more. This repeated itself until Wardes went Hollow, and he put him down from the last time.

Ryan looked away, panting heavily. He could still heard the sounds of battle, but they were faint, like everything was happening in the other side of the castle and not in just a few meters of distance. He moved, a bit unsteadily, retracing his steps and picked up the fallen music box. Then, he headed back to the dining room.

Ryan opened the door. The dining room was even more of a mess since he left. All the tables were all turned around, corpses that looked centuries old littered the ground and the smell of decayed flesh was almost palpable. The fighting was nothing but a mad scramble. They didn´t even notice that he had gone inside, not even when he slipped next to the throne, rise the hand holding the music box and opened the lid. When the tune started playing, he tensed despite himself. Nothing happened, of course. He felt like a real idiot. For a moment, he wondered if he had broke it or something, then, the ground gave a brief sake and a piece of wall behind the throne disappeared, creating a long corridor with just a few flickers of light at the end. On the center of that room, there was an unlit bonfire. He ran for it, holding tightly on to his sword. Nobody followed him. He reached the bonfire, put his hand on it and lighted it. Observing the crackling of the flames, he almost dozed off. This was it, uh. It had be so long since he had felt this peaceful.

Ryan shook his head. There was no time to be lost in his though, like an idiot. He reached inside himself, and feed Humanity to the flame. He saw his flesh growing back and, in no more that a few seconds, it was like he had never died at all. Ah. No matter how many times he did this, the process was still a bi disorienting. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, opened them again and saw it. Five. Five bonfires for each kingdom, and ten more in the lands of the elves. Good enough. He went back from where he came, sword held high. He looked around the dining room one last time, and leaped into battle.

* * *

><p>Over. It was over. They had made the Albionese soldiers go hollow, killed them from the last time and, under his orders, gathered them up and burned them. Reconquista had conquered Albion´s royal palace, and it was only a matter of time before all of the kingdom felt under their control. And for there on, the world. Ryan smiled. Things had gone out of hand for a little while, but now everything was on track again. He would continue to use Cromwell for now, but someday he take control. It wouldn´t be hard, either. When that arrogant bastard called him for missions, he had only be protected by Sheffield, and he was definitively faster that her. And with her master, she would become harmless. After that, Reconquista would bow down to him... or he would make them. This bonfire was close enough, and he had more that enough Humanity to dealt with them all without much of a risk.<p>

As he had killed Wardes, some other soldier had to fire the signal. They waited at the entrance, and saw a carriage approaching whose horses were riding on their own. Uh. More strange magic, he supposed. The carriage stopped, and from it came down Sheffield and Cromwell just after her. As he was approaching, his smile was almost fixed, but when he took a good look at the situation he turned serious. He looked right at him.

"What happened, Undead?" His eyes narrowed. "And why do you look like you never died at all?"

"The curse is spreading. As for how I am like this, I really don´t know. The music box did something to me. I loss conscious and, when I woke up, I was like this."

"Uh." Cromwell muttered. Ryan couldn´t tell if he believe him or not. Well, it didn´t really matter, at this point. He looked around. "I don´t see Wardes."

"He is dead. Completely dead."

"Why? If the curse has spread to all the soldiers which were killed here, shouldn´t Wardes had be resurrected?"

"Oh, he was resurrected, alright but his soul has burn out, turning him into a Hollow, a mad beast seeking only to kill and kill humans to fill the gaps in their soul, because of dying to many times or losing the will to go on or maybe even something else. Even back on my homeland, nobody was really sure."

"I see." He looked away from him, and advance towards the doors of the palace, followed by Sheffield. The soldiers let them plenty of space to pass through. "Come with me, Undead. The rest of you know what you have to do, so don´t disappoint me."

Ryan followed them, without saying a word, wondering what Cromwell wanted to say away from his own soldiers. He leaded them into the dining room and, when he stepped inside, he heard Sheffield close the door behind the. He unsheathed his sword, and ran towards Cromwell. He heard the snap of fingers, and a barrier crackling with electricity appeared just in front of him. He hit it. There was pain, burning pain and his vision briefly went white. Then, he was throw back, against the ground, and he somehow managed to hold on to the sword.

"Fool. Don´t lie so blatantly. I am not old enough to believe such bullshit. Wardes doesn´t really matter to me. He is not irreplaceable, like you. However, is clear you need to be a taught a lesson. I am the one in control here." Cromwell said, and raised a hand. A great blue ring shone upon one of his fingers. "Undead, kill yourself."


	6. Line Of Sight

**VI. Line Of Sight**

Nothing happened. Ryan had not though anything would happen but, judging by Cromwell shocked face, he had be definitively expecting him to obey. He was not sure what that mean, or how he had gotten out of whatever spell he had tried to cast on him just now, but it didn´t really change anything. Killing that bastard was still his priority.

"Master, why is he not doing anything? The ring..." It was that thing, then. He will make sure to smash it after finishing this. Or, better yet, use it for himself.

"I don´t know." Cromwell said. "And I don´t care. Kill him."

And with that the barrier started closing around him, crackling menacingly. He grimaced. If it touched him, he was dead. That was no longer has bothersome as it had be not even an hour before, but it was still a bit of a problem and, besides, he was not going to just roll over and die. He raised a hand. Healing himself may work. It would be dangerous, since the impact would surely leave in the defenseless, but it was his best chance. When the barrier hit him, he casted the Heal Miracle. The electricity coursing through his body made the world when white. He dropped to his knees, and his back arched in a short and sharp move.

"Sheffield!" Suddenly, it was like a great weight had be lifted for his chest-he could breath again. His hands grasped for support, but found none. "Why he is not dead? That is one of your strongest artifacts, right?"

"Healing. He healed himself, but that´s..." Ryan dragged himself to his feet, and ran towards Cromwell, sword raised. That was it; he just had to do this one little thing. Everything would be over when he was dead.

Something took hold of his shoulders and he was sent flying. The ceiling spun once right before his eyes. His back hit the table, and it broke under his weight, sending him to the floor among the broken pieces. Somehow, he managed to kept hold on his sword. Ryan sat up, and then stood up slowly, with one hand on a nearby desk for support. Sheffield was there, right in front of Cromwell, one hand shining with an eerie blue light held out towards him.

"Master, get back." Sheffield said. Cromwell turned around, spluttering and ran towards the door. Ryan followed him with his gaze, and launched the Fireball Pyromancy at him. He was aiming at his chest, but Cromwell was a little to fast, and the fireball hit the ground, near him. It exploded, its plant leg catching fire, the shock-wave sending him crashing down to the floor, screaming. The material was quickly burned through, and the flesh and meat behind it. When the fire dissipated, his leg was nothing more that a useless, bleeding stump. He crawled to the wall on his hands, moaning weakly, leaving a trail of blood on his way. "Master, you have to stop moving! Your leg..."

"Shut the fuck up and kill him, you stupid bitch!" Cromwell screamed. "Kill him!"

Sheffield shot a ball of blue light after him. He cut it down with his sword, without even slowing down. She took a step back, gritting her teeth and did a couple of quick gestures with her arms. Ryan stopped him his tracks. The gave two short, quick shakes and those creatures she had used on their duel burst from the ground all around him. They shot out towards him, their arms raised and when the first one grabbed him, the others soon followed suit, piling on him, clawing at him while shrieking insanely. He tried to shake them off, and slashed at them, but it was useless. For every one that died, two more appeared. Shit. No choice. Its very name gave him a bitter taste on his throat, but it would save him now, like it did many times before. So, he held out a hand and unleashed the Wrath of The Gods.

A shock wave spread across the ground, starting from just below his feet, destroying nearly all of the creatures in a single instant, and throwing the rest creatures out of him. They hit the wall, making a dull thud upon impact, like they were empty inside, and disappeared. What remained of them was just the smell of burning, barely noticeable and even that soon faded. He took a step forward. Sheffield was on the ground, clutching his right hand, which was hanging uselessly, with her left. Gritting her teeth, she looked up at him, forced herself to her feet and shot another blue ball right at him. He cut it down, easily and continued his advance. For the distance, he cached worried voices and the sounds of various footsteps. Cromwell´s army, Reconquista, was coming to investigate the ruckus. This had to end, now.

"Don´t come near me!" She shrieked, and fired once more, again and again, while frantically stepping back. He cut them down without missing a beat, trapped her against the wall and stabbed the sword to one side of her face, cutting down a few strands of her hair. Her hood fell down, revealing her face. He stared at her eyes, for just a moment. Then:

"Know your place." Ryan breathed out, then drove the sword through her heart. She gasped, then screamed in pain while trashing around. When he saw her body going limp, her glazed over eyes. The footsteps sounded even closer. He had not time to kill her enough times for her to go Hollow, like he did to Wardes. Cromwell´s army was approaching, so his best chance of taking the upper hand was a gamble. He gave his back to Sheffield, and approached the fallen and bleeding Cromwell, who had crawled to the door and was fiddling with the locks. He grabbed his air, and tugged it back. Cromwell let out a panicked yell, and his hands tried to reach his own, but he moved swiftly and made a deep gash on his throat with his sword. He struggled with more force for a few seconds, but soon enough his body went completely limp and his heart stopped beating. Ryan let his corpse fall to the ground, took off the ring from his right hand and put it on his own.

At that moment, the door burst open at the Reconquista soldiers came rushing in, weapons held high and then immediately stopped, as one, looking lost as they oversaw the scene. Ryan smelled something faintly burning. He looked down and saw him, skin rotten, leg still a stump coated with blood, trying to stand up while supporting himself on the wall, the darksign´s light already fading.

"Kill him." Cromwell croaked. "Kill him."

The soldiers recovered their composure, but he was not going to give them a chance to move. He pointed at them with his right hand. Maybe the ring had some special trigger or something, but it seemed reasonable to assume that it didn´t. Cromwell had just done this, after all, and he had expected it work. He had not fell Cromwell´s magical energy, either.

"Acknowledge me as your king." The soldiers stopped, and knelled down in front of him, heads held down in submission. He hesitated, for a moment. Did it really work, or it was just some kind of trick? Ah, he had to stop being so stupidly paranoid. They had the numerical advantage so they didn´t need to use any tricks to have a chance of victory. "Kill these two as many times as necessary." They split off in two big groups. One pushed down Cromwell, and the other did the same to Sheffield. The two of them struggled and scream, but it was all useless. They died, again and again, and were brought back to life until, finally, they went Hollow and were put down for the last time. Now Albion was his and Halkagenia would soon follow.

Ryan smiled.

* * *

><p>He watched the fleet descended towards Tristania from his position on the deck of the largest ship, the one that Cromwell was supposed to use, idly toying with the pommel of his sword. Its name was Lexington. Both him and Sheffield were both dead, but that didn´t mean the problems were over. Tristania, has the closes kingdom and the weakest one, had to be out of his way. However, directly taking over Tristania was not needed.<p>

The darksign was spreading, and he was the only one who knew about it, so that would grant him a certain standing, even if he had killed that Valliere girl, which he would use to establish close contact with both Germania and Tristania, and let his men slowly take the over the most important positions, leaving his group with the most power and influence in three of all four countries.

They had agreed to meet on Tarbes to discuss things. He didn´t know where it was but, then again, he was not one of the people piloting the leading ship and the place didn´t matter even negotiations went bad, for some reason, because they held every possible advantage and, even though King Albrecht the Third was slated to marry Princes Henrietta, they wouldn´t not come fast enough to save them and there was a big possibility that they wouldn´t even try. Heh.

A few minutes after, his fleet got level with Tristania´s fleet. He watches as his soldier send messages by signal from the mast.

"We thank you for your fleet´s welcome. This is the captain of Albion´s fleet."

"We give you our warmest welcome. This is the commander in chief of the Tristanian fleet."

The Lexington fired into the air, as a salute. It seemed quite a ridiculous process to him, and likely to cause unfortunate accidents, but it was a custom of this world and for now he had to play by its rules to get anything done. The Tristanian fleet fired their cannons in response, seven times. He frowned slightly. As his soldiers told him, eleven was the minimum required for top ranked nobles. Oh, well. It was likely that it didn´t mean anything important. They may be disrespectful, but they just couldn´t risk war breaking out between Albion and Tristania.

His fleet docked slowly in a nearby port and together with his soldiers, went to meet the Tristanian soldiers. In was much smaller that his own group, not even half the size. A man stepped up, and held out his hand towards him-surely the commander in chief. He took it, and shook it.

"My name is Ryan Blackwater, the King Of Albion." Blackwater had not special meaning, it had just popped up in his head one day and he decided that it was as good of a surname as any other. "Is a pleasure to meet you."

"My name is Frederick De Guant, the commander in chief of the Tristanian Fleet. Is a pleasure to meet you, too. Now, please, follow us." And so, they did. They got inside a carriage, though a few of Guant´s group didn´t fit in and had to enter another one. The rider drove towards the palace at a steady pace, not hurrying or loafing. In less that an hour, they were at the palace gates at hurrying inside. After going to tedious presentations, him and a chosen handful of soldiers were let alone with Princess Henrietta and her own entourage. He had be told the Princess was quite young but, seeing that she essentially ruled Tristain since the dead of the King, he expected something more that a young girl in a long pink dress with a rather low cut top looking at him with earnest eyes. They shook hands, and sat in front of each other, their guards surrounding them.

"King Ryan." She said, her voice smooth, flowing yet steady like the voice of the princess she was supposed to be. It was apparent, though, that she was naught but a child, from her body and her entire mannerisms. She would reach for the best outcome for her country, yes, but she lacked the ruthless necessary to step over other people´s life's. Hell, he was unsure she had the guts to order his execution, even if he slapped her right in the face in front of her more trusted soldiers. It seemed like a stupid thing to even think, but really, such earnest eyes made him kind of believe it."Is a pleasure to talk with you in person for the first time and I hope many will follow."

Her hands were shaking. Uh, interesting. Perhaps it was simply that she hated it for over throwing the system that gave her and her family power, and being forced to dealt with him as an equal, but it could be something more personal.

"As I do. However, forgive me for being blunt, but we have far for more important matters here. The curse, for instance." Speaking like that was a real pain, but it was necessary to be taken seriously. "Tell me about how things are going."

"We first discovered this... curse... long after it already raced the village of Eneek." Her face fell, but she quickly regained her composure. Uh. That just confirmed how childish she was. Not for feeling bad for the death, but feeling responsibility over something that was in all respects out of her control. "We don´t know how it happened, but my soldiers have discovered a corpse as being the one of Louise Valliere. It was likely spread by her, judging for the declarations how the man she summoned and what happened after that. We..."

"Just a moment, please. I have to say than that hypothesis is true. I know, because I am that man." Ryan said. Henrietta´s eyes narrowed. "But you already guessed as much, didn´t you? That is the only possible reason for you to believe what I told you in my letters."

"That´s true, but... is still kind of a surprise. Sorry."

"Its fine. Anyway, please continue."

"We contained it as best as we would, at we followed the orders of the church and killed the few remaining... survivors."

"You are so hesitant to say that, but you shouldn´t. I tell you something good, so listen. Those who Tristanian soldiers killed because of their orders were definitively human. And it was a useless move."

"Explain, please." Her eyes narrowed.

"The darksign, the mark of the curse, will spread and soon the whole of Halkagenia will be engulfed. There is nothing we can do to stop that, so killed them was useless and immoral. When they die enough times, Undead will lose themselves and go Hollow, a mad beast just seeking for prey, that much is true, but until them they are normal humans like you or anybody else. And Hollows can easily be taken care off, in this land."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what happened to the Valliere Girl. She definitively was brought back to the death-nobody can deny that- and I fully mean the words I said at that field. In my land, that those branded with the darksign couldn´t never find rest a fact of life. Yet, Louise was like any other corpse when you found her and has not moved or anything. That's because she lost grip on herself, and went Hollow. Unlike where I come from, here Hollow´s will not come back once killed."

"So, I am assuming you will tell me the ways to notice that turning process and suggest that we dealt with Hollows as soon as they turn and not do anything else about it?"

"Is not that I want you not to do anything else about it, is just that there is nothing else you can do, but yes, that´s the idea." Henrietta signed.

"The church is not going to like this."

"It doesn´t matter if the church likes it or not. If this does´t happen, Halkagenia as you know it will go down the drain. Like what happened to Lordran." Ryan frowned, recalling those hellish weeks, that constant crushing feeling of being truly alone and having to face monstrosities beyond imagination with a thin shield and a sword and some magic later on, the hell were he had be reborn. "The rulers gathered all Undead in a massive prison, to hold them inside from all eternity in an effort to contain the curse. Many Undead escaped the Asylum, but by the time they did the Undead curse had already infected all we knew. There is nothing anyone can do. Not even your Founder Brimir could do anything about it, because the curse is a part of life itself."

"True. Cardinal, bring the treaty." She said. The old man took off a parchment from his pocket, gave it to her and then she spread in on the table, facing towards him so he could read it. Ryan grabbed it, and did so. He had ordered his more knowledgeable soldiers to instruct him about the legalities since, even though passing in to the appropriate person could have be fine, he didn´t want to seem incompetent. It was a standard and fair document, not asking for anything untoward just because they could. Good. Even if they had done so, it wouldn´t really matter-he would have just put Henrietta under his control-but it was good to know he was not getting an ally that hated him to the extend of risking war breaking out between their two kingdoms. It would have made things much more complicated. In took him more that ten minutes to finish reading all the pages. One of his soldiers gave him a plume, and he signed each page without hurrying. He gave it back to Henrietta, and she signed it too.

"That´s it?" He asked.

"Yes, that´s it."

"Well, then." Ryan said, and stood up from his seat. "Excuse me."

"Wait." He stopped. "Can we ask for the help of you and your men?"

"What is it?" The better question would be why she hadn´t mentioned whatever it was on their correspondence, if it was so damn important and urgent as to ask for his help, but it was not an appropriate one. Their relationship was tenuous enough already.

"Since a few days ago, we have noticed a substantial raise on the water levels of the village of Ragdorian, to the point of flooding. However, is not any mundane problem. The only possible cause is the Water Spirit of the Ragdorian lake, and so, we may need backup. We are hopeful for a peaceful negotiation but things could always fall apart... or the spirit could refuse to negotiate."

"Very well. We will go with whatever group you send there. When are we going?"

"Right now. They should be at the stables now, getting horses, but if they aren´r, just ask our soldiers where Alexander De Aiver, the captain in command of the expedition, is. Tell them, if they get problematic, that is my order." Ryan nodded. He shook hands with her once more, and walked away. His soldiers followed him.

* * *

><p>They were, indeed, at the stables. He asked for Alexander, told that him and his men were going with them for the request of his princess. His men acquired horses on their own and, to his embarrassment, he had to ride with one of them. He couldn´t help it; there hadn´t be time to learn how to ride a horse in just a few weeks. At least, not well enough. Well, it didn't really matter. They would surely think of him as one more entitled noble who wouldn´t even be bothered to ride a horse, not that he didn´t even knew how to do it.<p>

The ride took little more that an hour. The horses all stopped in unison in the top of a step hill, and when he looked down he saw water, looks of water and broken tress and all sorts of random junk floating in it along with some houses, which along the rooftops could be seen. The entire village was flooded. Either the water had grown at an incomprehensibly fast rate during those few days, or the Tristanian people were irresponsible assholes. He couldn´t honestly say which one was worse. They dismounted, and approached the water.

Right before their eyes, the water started to churn and then swiftly swelled up and began taking a shape. His hand went to his sword and unsheathed it in surprise. In a few moments, a great big water clone of himself, but without armor or any kind of cloth. What the fuck was that, seriously? What the fuck? No, better question. Why him, of all of the people here? Alexander stepped up, and bowed before the Water Spirit.

"Water Spirit." He said. "I am Alexander De Aiver, user of water, I need to ask you something. Why have you risen the water levels, after so long and what can we do to appease you?"

"A person stole something from me." It said. "My most important possession, about thirty moths before the moon´s crossing."

"Is this revenge, then?"

"No. We don´t have such a concept. I simply wish for my treasure back and so, I will flood the land. No matter how much it takes, even if it must sink all this world, I will regain what have I lost."

"We can help you. What was stolen? And who did it?"

"Is called the Ring Of Andvari. However, there is no need to search from it. " It looked straight at him. Shit. The Tristanian soldier all turned towards him, worry and distrust on their faces. "This man has it."

The Tristanian soldiers murmured, shocked, but not a single one of them made a move. His soldiers drew closer to him, without him needing to say anything.

"You are Cromwell?" It asked him.

"No. I am the one who killed him."

"Give it back to me." This was really bad. Not giving the ring back would constitute a breach of the peace treaty and, even if it didn´t, it would surely cause all cooperation between them to become impossible. A false peace was the best he could hope for, in that case. While he had all the odds on his side, going to war against Tristania was far for an ideal position. On the other hand, he couldn´t afford to give it, it was what held his power base together, so there really was not choice.

"I refuse." Ryan said. Its back arched, and it threw his head back and screamed, causing the water to churn as if in the middle of a current. He stepped back swiftly, sword held high and raised his shield. A blast of concentrated water hit it, bending, twisting, breaking it. Out of balance, he was sent flying back and was forced to stop when he hit a tree with spine-breaking force. The sword went tumbling out of his grip and rolled down into the depths of the waters of that spirit, fully out of his reach. He dragged himself to his feet, took a step forward and had to grab to a tree to keep his balance.

The Water Spirit was lashing out of at the rest, sending solid blasts of water flying everywhere and forcing them to retreat. Some fell down, their weapons tumbling to the ground and were forced to abandon them to live. It adsorbed them into its water, or just broke them in half with stray water blasts. Ryan took a step forward, forcing himself to keep steady.

"You have to disappear." He uttered on loud, without even realizing and, with a soft pop, his hands bursts into flames.

**Author´s Notes.**

**Do you know I self published a short story on Amazon? Well, now you do. Its free until the twenty eight day of this month, and free for three months to Kindle Unlimited and Amazon Prime members, ****so you don´t have a reason to not check it out. The link to it is in my profile.**

**Also, sorry for the wait.**

**Exams ate my life.**


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